


Breaking and... well, more breaking?

by Katy_Stark



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Bullying, Don't know if it counts so still tagging it, Father Figures, Humour, Hydra, Kidnapping, Light eating disorder?, Pre-Avengers (2012), SHIELD, Teenage Drama, summer job
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-17
Updated: 2019-09-19
Packaged: 2019-10-11 20:21:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 48
Words: 103,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17453651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katy_Stark/pseuds/Katy_Stark
Summary: (This idea happened at 2am)Evelyn Summers is pissed and looking for an outlet, so she goes and kicks in the front door of a random stranger's house. When this starts to become a habit with the same house, how long until she gets caught by the particularly disgruntled owner, aka Clint Barton?





	1. What the hell is happening?

**Evelyn's POV - Friday 1st June - 06:11pm**  
This day sucked.  
  
To start, I missed my alarm because my phone charger decided to break and leave my phone dead. After unceremoniously dragging myself out of bed, I broke my hairbrush, burnt my toast, almost lost my keys and still missed first period of the day, getting to school halfway through second period.  
  
Further into the day, I got in trouble for something I didn't do, again, but as it seemed to my teachers I was almost always in trouble, they ignored my innocent argument. Detention, next Monday. Great. As if I didn't already have enough with the one I had scheduled for today.  
  
Lunch rolls around and I realise I forgot to grab stuff to eat, spilt paint on my shirt in Art, rugby tackled into the wall in P.E, and then finally nearly got jumped outside of the gates when I left after my detention.  
  
The whole day had gone from bad to worse.  
  
And now it was pissing with rain.  
  
_I needed to hit something. Didn't matter what it was, where it was, or how much it would cost to repair or replace, I needed to hit something. Otherwise, I was gonna hit some **one**._  
  
The rain continued to pour down on me like the rest of my elder teenage life and I sighed, stopping on the now slippery pavement and looking around. I'd wandered further than my thoughts, apparently, as I looked around to see myself on the more rural side of town, on a thin road that was circling back behind some farmhouses that could be seen in the distance from the school windows. They were all pretty spaced out along the road, fair distance between them, and the closest one to me was the only one with no lights on, no sign of life in the front or back garden, but from the angle I had up the street, it had a wooden barn door around the back that led into the house.  
  
_Fuck it._  
  
I paced down the street, completely devoid of other life and with the distant sounds of cars on the main road. The driveway beside the building housed no car, or truck, or vehicle of any kind, as I walked down it. The building itself had the backside facing the street and the front side down the driveway and around the side which faced the fields. It was a large barn like-thing connected to an actual house, the house considerably more modern and almost out of place for a door that seemed so dated. The closer I got to the back, the more I could make out the details of a small metal lock and hinges, not much in the way of secure structure there. And the garden before the fields was only blocked off by the type of fence you would expect to see leading to a horse's field.  
  
There were no animals in the surrounding fields, the only animals around sounded like a few crickets in the long grass, but I took notice of the random torn toys and tennis balls scattered in the 'front' garden of this place.  
  
_Did I still want to do this?_  
  
I climbed over the gate and landed on the stone path leading to the door.  
  
_I guess so._  
  
I reached the front door, hood pulled up as I glanced around quickly, trying to make out any security cameras or anything that would catch me doing this. I didn't expect to see any with this part of town being so old, and I didn't find anything looking at me just yet so I turned my attention back to the door ahead of me. Did I need to do this? I was feeling considerably calmer since being faced with the door.  
  
I thought of everything that had happened that day, everything that went wrong for no good reason, and felt my former irritation return to me. I took in a deep breath, suddenly anxious again.  
  
_I don't know if I can do this. I'm breaking down a door to someone's house who could quite possibly be in and not own a car. As well as possibly a dog coming to bite my leg off--_  
  
I kicked the door as hard as I could, right leg, and I did not expect that door to completely come off its hinges. I stumbled forward, landing on my side and into this patio type room. How old _was_ this door? I looked ahead of me to see another door up a step, much more modern and with a better locking mechanism. I didn't have time to dwell on the idea as the pain began registering in my mind.  
  
_Ow! Fuck, my leg!_  
  
I rolled over onto my back, groaning.  
  
_That's my good leg. My P.E. teacher is gonna be pissed._  
  
Probably a bad idea to have kicked down a door. Especially one not from my own house. Speaking of which, time to run... or awkwardly hobble the way back home before the owner or the owner's dog comes along, and judging by the fact there was no doggy door in the one ahead of me or the one I was currently lying on, it must be a big one.  
  
I pulled myself up, gritting my teeth as I stumbled my way back over to the gate, pulling myself over and moving back to the main road, holding the sides of my hoodie down. I made my way back home to my own home, sopping wet and with a possibly still in-shock leg when I arrived. I weaved through the carpark, typed the passcode in on the apartment hallway door, heading inside and physically groaning out to the echoing hall when I remembered my home was on the second fucking floor. Using the bannister that was close to falling off, I pulled myself up to the second floor, unlocking the door and heading inside, locking it after me and tossing my soaked hoodie to the side somewhere to hopefully dry. I stripped off my jeans, put on sleep shorts and carefully sat down on the crappy sofa in the living area.  
  
_Fuck, my fucking leg hurts so muuuuuch._  
  
Maybe I was being dramatic, but who cares? This was my house, my bad day, and my choice to be as reckless as I wanted. Though I probably should have thought my plan through a little more.  
  
The clock on the wall said 7:38pm. I had enough time for a shower. I showered quickly, hot water and my favourite shampoo because today was a day for treating myself and retired to bed, lying down and running over the whole day in my mind.  
  
What did I even accomplish here?  
  
My mind wandered through school's antics. Still, dick moves by the school. But then my brain went to the door. Knocking the door off its hinges like that? Getting my emotions out on something like that? Something so violent and possibly law-breaking?   
  
I began to realise that I didn't feel annoyed about the day anymore and that I now actually felt... good? Holy shit. Kicking in that door, although my leg ended up in a bad way for the last hour, had felt _good._ Great even. Oh, I could see this method of stress relief becoming repeatable. But maybe not in the next week or so, or at least not until I got better supporting shoes than just canvas sneakers.  
  
  
**Clint's POV - 07:30pm - Same night**  
Lucky barked happily as home came into sight again. I sighed in agreement, happy that we were nearly home so I could take a hot shower and go to bed.  
  
It felt like Fury had been putting me on assignments left, right, and centre, after I had asked for some of the summer off, and the latest ones were killing me. My back ached and my head hurt, my upper arm was bandaged after a particularly close call with a gun, but with the idea of coming back here to spend time with Lucky by ourselves was a good reward of sorts and made the harder missions worth it.  
  
As we got to the driveway, I opened the gate and let the gigantic retriever off his collar, closing the gate behind me.  
  
_I hadn't seen Lucky or this house in a while being so busy, and often had newer SHIELD recruits look after the place while I was gone, but I knew the big guy missed me from whenever he jumped on me as I walked through the front door, and not just because I was normally carrying a big doggy bone for him as an apology._  
  
The golden furry dog's repeated barking made me look up from the gate, furrowing my brow. And that's when I pulled my gun.  
  
The barn porch door was completely kicked in, splintered and all. I raised an eyebrow, confused, but still extremely concerned and on high-alert. No one else bar three others knew this place existed.  
"Lucky. Come here, boy." I called him over carefully and he ceased barking, looking to me, back to the doorway, then slowly trekked back down the stone path to my side, looking up at me with his good eye, the other lost to trauma after an incident a few years back. "Stay here, you got that?" I told him and moved forward before he could answer his regular yap.  
  
I moved to the door, holding my gun up as I searched the porch room. Nothing had been moved, but the rainboots had been knocked a little by the door falling on top of them. The door to the house didn't seem touched, still locked, but I unlocked it and headed inside, proceeding to search the whole house with extreme caution and growing more and more confused by the second. Nothing seemed to have been taken or misplaced. It seemed like they hadn't even been in the rest of the house altogether. So why the hell did they kick in the front door?  
  
Clint lowered his gun, finding himself back in the front room and whistling loudly. Lucky's claws tapped on the kitchen tiles as he came rushing through and into the front room onto the hardwood floors and carpet, head moving as if he was looking around himself. I decided to chalk this up to a failed break-in, doing a final sweep of the house with Lucky following me, before finally stepping into the bathroom for that shower I wanted and getting to bed, still a little uneasy, but ultimately still confused by the whole ordeal.


	2. Repeat offence

**Evelyn's POV - 2 weeks later - 15th June**  
Suspended. Fucking suspended.  
  
Walking home, or possibly past it, I was steaming over the events of the day. A kid breaks his arm in P.E. because he bumped into me playing volleyball and landed on the floor in a  weird way. Of course, experiencing this 'act of brutality' and screaming in pain, he told the teacher I did it on purpose, and with my track record, it was chalked up to undecidable by the teacher, and then guilty by the headmaster. At least, after the kid's incredible crying and sobbing skills.   
  
So, I got suspended for a fucking week. Yeah, cause that's gonna help me with my exams. They're next _month._  
  
A strong gale blew at my hoodie, making me wish I had picked a thicker jacket to take out, even if it had been roasting earlier due to the summer approaching. My P.E. bag was heavy on my back and I was just growing more and more agitated as I walked, completely pissed off and also just having left a damn detention - _again_ \- because of the same reason. Wasn't a suspension already enough? That was gonna permanently be a stain on my record for when I went to college. The universe hates me.  
  
 _Half six at night, after four years of this shit, and I have finally realised the universe hates me. Or at least high-school does._  
  
But at least it wasn't forever. That's all I had to remember.  
  
...   
  
Yeah. That's not making me feel better. I still feel like I could knock someone out if they even just brushed beside me when walking on the street. I needed to do something, and soon, or I was just going to end up pushing my emotions down which wasn't healthy.  
  
I needed a hobby. I was too busy to have a hobby.  
  
I rubbed my face, pausing where I stood on the street, not caring if anyone behind me was annoyed by it. my hands went into my hair and tugged a little as if straightening my hair would straighten my thoughts. I sighed again and looked around. I was past my house, again, but up ahead was that road I hadn't thought about in two weeks.  
  
My thoughts wandered to the house on the street, little and tucked away. I thought about how I'd kicked in that person's front door. And how _good_ it felt... at least after my leg stopped hurting. I briefly wondered if the person had had another door fitted there, or if they had just left it.  
  
Before I could think more on it, I was already heading in that direction, curious to answer my own questions. I needed more control over my impulses.  
  
Fuck it. Not today. Today's been too shitty to listen to logic, anyway.  
  
I strolled down the street, ankle boots tapping against the pavement before I turned up the long lane leading to the rural area. The sun was close to setting, giving everything a dark orange glow, only just making it so the streetlamps weren't on quite yet. The roaring engines of cars grew further and further away the closer to the farmhouses I got. It was like this part of town was separated from the rest, more than distance-like, almost as if cut off physically and emotionally. It just seemed strangely different up here.  
  
I reached the road and could see the expanse of farmhouses across the line, the closest being my target. I headed down the road, glad this wasn't busy enough to have to squish close to the walls of the surrounding fields in order to get out of the way of passing cars and trucks. Unlike the roads outside of my apartment that were busy as hell and you could always hear the cars passing by late at night. It's like they aim to drive by just as soon as you start settling into deep sleep.  
  
I slowed in my step outside the back of the house, seeing there was no car on the driveway again, no lights on or sign of any life other than the crickets in the bushes and fields surrounding the place. I stepped down the drive, quietly just in case, and stood beside the gate to see that the door had, in fact, been replaced since two weeks ago. And it looked just as crappy and worn in as the last one. Is that the look the owner is going for? I hopped over the gate, happy I'd gone for my boots instead of converse as I approached the door to take a closer look, and yep, that's just like the old one, but probably a little more sturdy. I crossed my arms, thinking of how it looked smashed on the floor, and how good I felt when I knocked it completely off its hinges.  
  
I felt the urge to do it again.  
  
I bit my lip, taking a look around to make sure no security had been added since my last visit. It seemed whoever I'd kicked in had not thought to. Their loss.  
  
I took a step back first, knowing this would be somewhat sturdier, and kicked as hard as I could, hearing the wood splinter and the hinges crack. The lock busted off again, clinking on the floor as the rest of the door almost split in two, but just barely hanging onto its hinges. It wasn't satisfying enough. So I struck it again with my boot and this time, I completely broke it.  
  
The wood splintered in the middle, one half barely hanging onto the rest of it by a few strands of wood. The top hinge had broken off. The splintering revealed the outer wood was notably lighter inside than outside, and the wind started rocking the hanging piece back and forth until it banged loudly against the wall to the right. I took that as a sign to get the hell out of here before someone caught me, and so with a mildly hurting leg, I jogged back and jumped over the fence, running away from the scene of the crime and hoping none of the neighbours were around to see.  
  
 **Clint's POV - 07:30pm - Same night**  
Lucky barked repeatedly as soon as I let him off the leash in the garden. I closed the gate and looked around, freezing when I heard a loud bang, suddenly ducking and pulling my gun. The bang came again, and I realised it wasn't a gunshot. It sounded almost hollow. Lucky continued barking so I whistled and he trotted back to me, barking again. I furrowed my brow, looking around and spotting what was making the noise.  
  
 _Not again._  
  
The barn porch door, almost completely the same as two weeks ago, was kicked in and splintered. This time, however, it wasn't busted off the hinges completely, but looked to be battered and broken with purpose. I raised an eyebrow, confused and concerned as I approached the porch. Just like the last time, nothing seemed to have been touched or moved past the wooden door, but the door almost seemed like it had been attacked on purpose like the person had just been fighting with the door for more than breaking into the house. Still, I did as I did last time, making Lucky stay outside as I swept the house up and down, and concluding that, yes, again, nothing had been touched, and it seemed that it was only the door had been touched at all.  
  
 _What the fuck was going on?_  
  
I whistled Lucky inside and sat on the sofa, rubbing my face with both hands.  
  
 _This couldn't have been a coincidence, could it? Surely there wasn't a thing or trend for people to just go running around and kicking doors in, right?_  
  
Lucky nuzzled my leg and I pet his head, pulling out my phone and calling the neighbours to ask if their doors had been kicked in. Nada. So why did someone apparently have a vendetta against mine?  
  
I'd figure it out tomorrow. And if this happened again, I was catching the damn person who was costing me so much to replace my doors.


	3. Studying

**Evelyn's POV - 1 week later**  
I finished my week's suspension, and in that time had been sending in work on my laptop as well as studying from home. I think it was actually the most relaxing week of my life. There was absolutely no way, aside from not handing in work on time, that anyone could get mad at me, blame me for anything, or otherwise piss me off. However, as much as it was a good week, there were exactly three things and three things alone that annoyed me about my suspension.  
  
Number 1 - The fact that I'm fucking suspended.  
Number 2 - I've missed a lot of P.E. lessons that I was looking forward too. The theory I did over the computer but I missed any physical lessons.   
Number 3 - Exams were stressing me out. And I had no one to help me calm down.  
  
I lived on my own in my apartment. My grandfather and grandmother I saw every so often when I managed to spare time to go see them. I didn't want to disappoint or bother them with my problems when they had their own to deal with. I didn't have many people who lived around here to talk to, except maybe Macy who lived across the hall with her father and Jazzy the cat. Or possibly Mr and Mrs Palmer on the ground floor with Clarissa the dog, but that's mainly because I didn't blow my nut when Clarissa managed to scamper her way into my apartment a few years ago. It's just a good job I like animals. Unlike Mr Tucker across the hall from the Palmers, who was considerably less understanding when Clarissa stole his 'preserved, unsmoked, dreadfully expensive leg of ham that he was planning to share with his high-class date'. That story didn't fool anyone who had been up early enough to witness a walk of shame exiting his apartment at 6:30 in the morning. Shade thrown.  
  
I dropped my pen against my notepad, my head going back to rest against the wall behind the sofa. My mind was in a state of 'bleh' where words weren't even registering in my head anymore, blurring on the page. I ran my hands over my face, deciding to give it up for the day and put my stuff to the side, knowing that I would never again have to give a report on the effects of pathetic fallacy once exams were done. Gathering any physical energy I had left, I got up and poured myself a glass of water before looking around the kitchen for something to eat. I soon realised with exams and everything else going on that, yes, I had food, but by the mould on just about everything, I'd both forgotten to eat and go shopping for quite the while, so I stuck on my jacket and headed out to the grocery store.  
  
Grabbing a basket, I picked up my usual cold meats and some vegetables to make my grandparents happy that I was still keeping myself healthy while living on my own, soon looking for bread while trying to keep on a budget that wouldn't threaten my rent. I really needed a job for the summer. I couldn't continue to take the money given by my grandparents, no matter how much they want to help. I was getting older. I needed to become more independent.  
  
An introduction of loud voices by the door of the store made me look up and then quickly look back down, pulling my hood further up my head.  
  
 _Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Don't see me. Please do not see me._  
  
I made my bread choice quickly and headed to the counters, trying my best to avoid the group that had just entered's attention. I recognised most in the group from high-school, mixed in with a few older students I didn't know but had seen hanging around their crowd before. I listened as their voices grew further and further away into the back of the store and grew slightly impatient as I waited to pay for my items. I got to the front and quickly packed and paid before rushing towards the door and walking back home, keeping my hood pulled up against my face and hoping that I wasn't unlucky enough to have them see or catch up with me.  
  
Luck seemed to be on my side as I got home and unpacked, throwing out the old mouldy things and replacing them with the fresh stuff. I made myself some toast before getting back to studying and calming myself from the mini heart attack I was in the middle of having.  
  
  
 **Clint's POV - 3:28pm - SHIELD training room**  
"Someone has a vendetta against your front door?" The unconvinced tone reminded me of who I was talking to. I notched another arrow onto my bowstring. "Its probably just kids messing around. High school vandals lashing out to get back at mom and dad." Nat, checking her handgun, sat on the bench beside me as I breathed in and aimed my bow at the target.  
  
"Once would be enough, wouldn't it? At least at the same house." I focused on the target across the room, narrowing my focus.  
  
"It's exam season. Kids have to have an outlet, sometimes, Barton."  
  
"Then you go to a coffee shop and talk, or listen to music, or go to the gym. You don't go busting down doors like you're in a music video." I breathed in and out softly, practised. I shot. Bullseye. "Once is random chance. Twice is a coincidence. Thrice means whoever it is, I'm going to catch them."  
  
"Well, if it happens a third time, then you definitely know if someone has something against wooden barn doors." Nat loaded her gun and aimed it at the wall to check the sightline. I pulled another arrow from the quiver on my back and notched it. "Plus, is it really worth chasing this person down? They aren't doing much besides a little vandalism. They aren't exactly stealing anything."  
  
"I'm glad I get good pay. It takes $150 to replace that door each time it gets kicked in," I told her. "Lucky is starting to get spooked. And I agree with him. Just because this person hasn't yet stolen something doesn't mean they won't in the future."  
  
"Careful with that philosophy. We know what happened last time someone around here thought that way," Natasha warned me needlessly. I didn't exactly have to be reminded of our last little rebellion within SHIELD over differences in opinion. I nodded regardless. "Fury tells me you're taking most of the summer off this year."  
  
"I need a break, Nat. I feel exhausted. It should be good to spend some time at home with Lucky, just taking the time to relax and keep a clear head," I explained, raising my arms to the target.  
  
"Kicking back on a lawn chair, sipping an ice-tea, hope nobody blows up your house?"  
  
"Not exactly the image I had in mind, but sure. Something like that." I released the arrow, hitting the centre and taking a break to stretch my arms out, hearing the kinks in my back pop.  
  
"You're getting old, Barton." Nat chuckled, standing and walking to another target, taking aim.  
  
"Older and wiser." I smiled, putting my bow back over myself and heading to the canteen for a bite to eat.  
  
"Whatever you need to tell yourself, Hawkeye."


	4. Cupcakes

**29th June - Evelyn's POV - 1 week later**  
 _"All I'm saying is, Evie dear, that you need to come and visit us sometime soon, after your exams."_ The soft voice of my grandma continued to fret over me, as it had been since she first called to check in on me I don't know how long ago. I opened the fridge to unpack my groceries into. " _You don't have many people to talk to up there outside of school and it can't be healthy staying in that apartment all on your own."_ She did have a point, but I didn't need any help remembering that fact.  
  
"I'm fine, grandma," I insisted, unpacking things into the freezer now.  
  
 _"You could maybe even think about getting a dog to keep you company. A nice Retriever like your Auntie has. They're supposed to be great support animals,"_ She talked as I unpacked my bags, keeping one specific food bag out as my shoulder twinged.  
  
"I'm fine, grandma." I closed the freezer door, making a face as my shoulder was pulled.  
  
 _"If not for the company then, as a guard dog. I've heard all sorts of stories about people being hurt in that neighbourhood. Your grandfather and I both would feel more at ease about your safety if you had something or someone to protect you."_  
  
"I'm fine, grandma," I repeated, leaning back on the counter, pressing the bag of frozen peas to my left shoulder with an inaudible wince, holding the phone between my cheek and right shoulder.  
  
 _"You say that but you tend to have the habit of leaving things out, don't you Evelyn?"_ Grandma accused, almost jokingly, and I sighed through my nose as the cold bag cooled my aching shoulder. _"Don't you, Evelyn?"_ She repeated, a little more sternly.  
  
"Yes, grandma." I agreed, slightly begrudgingly, as I moved to sit down on the sofa. I grunted, leaning back against the pillows.  
  
 _"Alright then. I will call you later in the week to check in on you and your exams. But you **will** call me sooner if anything happens." _  
  
"I promise," I promised what I normally promised.  
  
 _"Alright. That's sorted then."_ My grandma was happy. That was what mattered. Even if it wasn't entirely true.  _"We love you, Evie."_  
  
"Love you too," I replied before I heard the dial tone of a house phone. I sighed again and tossed my phone to the other end of the sofa, cursing myself when I realised that hurt my shoulder more.  
  
When moving out of the P.E. changing rooms, I'd been elbow barged into the lockers at an angle that ripped the muscle in my shoulder to feel like it was dislocated. Yeah, I didn't know that could happen, either. The nurse's office sent me home an hour early with a note to my parents, which was tossed in the bin, and then I'd had to go grocery shopping and hold everything with my right arm. It was going to take a few days to properly heal up, just enough time until my written exams started next Monday. Yay. My weekend was ruined for me had I planned on doing anything even remotely physical.  
  
I'd probably just end up writing statements for college applications and looking at summer jobs. Maybe put my skills to good use and do something in the nearby gym or possibly go for mechanical to try and gain experience for something new. The school didn't do any courses in mechanics, but it was something I'd been interested in for a while, and the more I read on college courses, the more interested I'd grown.  
  
The doorbell buzzing made me turn and loudly curse my injury, taking a few breaths before moving awkwardly over to the door.  
  
Maybe things would be different in college. There was always the chance I wouldn't come home with some sort of accident or injury. But I just had to push through, get my results, and finally just do something with my boring-ass life.  
  
I opened the door only to be tackled by something half my size and narrowly avoid swearing again for the sake of the seven-year-old lying on top of me.  
"Evie!" Her childish tone was both cheery and only just teetering on the edge of irritating. I forced a smile, even with my burning back and shoulder to look at the munchkin sitting on my chest with a giddy grin.  
  
"Macy," Her father's sterner tone alerted me to his presence just behind the female in the doorway. "Sorry about that, Evelyn." He picked Macy up from under the arms and pulled her off me. I shook my head with a smile.  
  
"Perfectly fine, Mr Martinez." I pulled myself up to standing, leaving the frozen peas bag on the floor where it fell as the small bundle of energy stood bouncing on her feet in front of me. She was in her regular uniform, slightly unexpected at half four in the afternoon since they should have already been home at least an hour.  
  
"Evie! Evie! Evie! Look!" I hadn't noticed she was holding something when first attacking me, but when I looked, I understood why she was so excited, and still in her uniform with a flour stain. Sat in her hands, in a flowery paper case, was a small vanilla cupcake. It was a little lopsided, and the 'E' marking the top was wobbly and untidy, but ultimately an adorable thing.  
  
"That's amazing, Macy." I smiled at her and she practically beamed at me, holding it out in front of her excitedly.   
  
“I made this one for you.” She pushed the small cake into my hands and I was careful not to drop it. “The ‘E’ stands for Ev-er-lyn.” She pronounced my name as accurately as she could, still struggling with complex words. I chuckled at her young energy and quietly hoped she would never lose that when she got older. I did.  
  
"It's lovely, Mace." I ruffled her short pixie cut and she pouted, pushing my hand off with a whine, short fawn hair now falling into her eyes. I chuckled softly.  
  
"Come on Macy. Homework time," Mr Martinez spoke up from behind her.  
  
"But I don't have anyyyy," Macy replied, turning to her father.  
  
"Yes, you do. Come on. Leave Evelyn alone." The raven-haired man chuckled at his daughter. Macy pouted again, giving me a quick hug before walking back over to their apartment across the hall and heading inside. The door closed with a loud sound, as a wooden door would when natural gravity worked against it. I leaned on the doorframe on my uninjured side.  
  
"I wouldn't eat that if I were you. Unless you want a cavity," Mr Martinez warned me with a kind smile. "Macy hasn't quite worked out what _'that's enough sugar'_ means just yet."  
  
"It was a lovely gesture. And they look better than last times," I said, putting the cupcake down on top of the drawers in the small hallway leading to the door.  
  
"She's determined." Mr Martinez was in his early forties. Aged blue eyes same as Macy's, a short beard kept in a neat style as needed from a teacher's assistant, and an overall a friendly demeanour and attitude to both adults and children alike. He worked at the elementary school his daughter went to, which was where I went before moving onto Willow Avenue High. "How are you lately, Evelyn?"  
  
"I'm fine." I shrugged before gritting my teeth as it hurt, rubbing my shoulder muscles.  
  
"That's not what that shoulder tells me." He nodded at my hand massaging. I sighed. Sometimes I really hated the man's perceptiveness. In the time of knowing me, he'd seemed to pick up quickly what was happening whenever I came home a little more battered than when I left.  
  
"Nearly exam week, anyway. I won't have to worry about that stuff much longer." I tried to move the conversation away from the problem.  
  
"You shouldn't have to deal with it anyway."  
  
"Mr Martinez--"  
  
"Darren."  
  
" _Darren_. It's really none of your concern. It's my problem to deal with." I just short of snapped at him, sharply. He silenced quickly. I bit my tongue and sighed out slowly. "Sorry."  
  
"Not a problem. This time of year is always a stressful one. For many people." His eyes fell to the side, hand going to fiddle with his blazer sleeve.  
  
"How are you holding up?"  
  
"Not particularly great," He confessed gently, tugging at his paint-splattered sleeve. "Macy's doing okay. She won't be in a while, though."  
  
"Still haven't told her?" I tilted my head softly. His eyes remained downcast at the blue carpet lining the hallway. "Will you ever?" My tone was soft, still, it held a light echo in the mostly empty inside of the building.  
  
"I will. Eventually." He rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. I swallowed, knowing, at least in some way, the feeling of loss and confusion he was experiencing. "God, I'm such a coward." He pressed his palms to his eyes with a dry laugh.  
  
"Darren, you're not a coward. I know it has got to be one of the hardest things to tell a child and make a child as young as seven understand." I spoke calmly, ignoring the feeling in my throat. "She's not going to be in a good place for a while. But the most you can do is be there to support her until she learns to accept and deal with her grief. That's all any parent or guardian can hope for with a loss of such a close member of the family." I reached out, tentatively, and squeezed his wrist gently. "I promise you, it's going to be okay. But you need to tell her sooner rather than later, or it will hurt her even more." I released my grip on his wrist when he didn't respond or flinch, just staring at a patch of carpet beneath his shoes while taking a few deep breaths to steady himself. I bit the inside of my lip as I felt his feelings influence my own, squeezing my eyes closed with a breath in before letting it out again calmly.  
  
"You're right." He brought his head up from the floor. I nodded slowly. I knew I was right. I knew what Macy was about to go through. And I wish I could spare her from it, but the hospital didn't lie when it came to accidents on the motorway. We both stood there in silence, just breathing and dealing. Macy's mother had been such a kind soul. "Well, this has been a dramatic few minutes." Darren brought us back into the present with a breath in.  
  
"Yes, it has." I nodded. "Not as dramatic as my drama teacher, though."  
  
"Oh dear, what happened?" Darren rubbed his face with one hand.  
  
"Going into my P.E class I see my drama teacher with his head resting against one of the lockers muttering “How did you get yourself into this mess?”. I asked him both why he was out of the drama area of the school and if he was okay, and he responded with: “I’ll be fine, just as soon as I get this kid out of his locker.”   
   
Darren snorted behind his hand, trying to cover his laugh. I grinned as he eventually gave up and laughed softly in the way I was happy to hear. I chuckled, crossing my arms as I leant on the doorframe.  
  
"Okay, fair enough, that's... pretty funny," Darren admitted and I nodded.  
  
"Right?" I grinned. My drama teacher was one of the few people in the school that didn't write me off as the 'bad girl'. Sure, I wasn't always at my best in that class, especially when surrounded by other people who didn't exactly like me, but he just saw me as a kid who needed to put their skills and teenage angst into something worthwhile.  
  
"Daaaaaad? How long are you going to beeeee?" Macy's voice from the doorway of their own apartment pulled me out of my thoughts.  
  
"I'm coming in a second, Macy," Darren nodded as his daughter who disappeared back into their apartment with another pout. "Until I see you again, Evelyn. Good luck with your exams." Darren shook my hand and headed back across the hall.  
  
"Thank you, Mr Martinez."  
  
"Darren." The father called over his shoulder before heading inside his apartment and shutting the door, a few seconds following I heard the lock click. I sighed, pushing myself off the doorframe and clutching my shoulder as I bent down to pick up the bag of peas that was now no longer frozen. I shut the door behind me, locked it, and headed back to the kitchen for a hot chocolate much-deserved nap.


	5. Where's my phone?

**6th June - Next Friday - Exam week 1 finished**  
 _Kill me. Just fucking kill me right now._  
  
The first week of exams was down. Christ, I was so tired I felt like I could sleep through my second week of exams. _'It's only the thought that's scary. Once you're inside the real exam, you'll find it easier than you thought'._ Bullshit. _'You know and remember more than you think'_. Also bullshit. I could already see that I wasn't going to get into college, or if I did, it would be out of pity and not because of my grades.  
  
I slammed my fridge door shut, uncapping a bottle of orange juice and drinking from the carton. What? Don't judge me.  
  
 _Also, how was everyone else so calm about this stuff? How is no one else stressing out about this but me? Everyone seems so calm and collected or just 'oh, I feel a bit nervous'. Piss off, dude. You get A's all the time in class, I very much doubt you'll fail. I, on the other hand, will never be able to do exams right. Hell, I can barely get out of bed in the morning and out the door without forgetting my phone, let alone a whole module's worth of facts on multiple different subjects. I can't even organise the time to study the notes for all my subjects as well as get a good nights sleep. What is the point? I am hopeless._  
  
I stopped drinking when the juice ran out and my stomach started hurting. That was not healthy. I put the carton in the bin and sat on the sofa, running my hands over my face. This line of thought wasn't going to get me anywhere.  
  
I pulled out my phone and opened the contacts, scrolling down to my grandma's number. I paused, then put my phone back in my pocket.  
  
 _No. She doesn't need my worries on her mind. She has her own set of problems to deal with._  
  
I sighed, leaning back on the sofa and staring up at the ceiling as if it would hold all the answers to my problems. I should just put my notes on the ceiling considering how many times I do this. Rubbing my eyes, I tried to rid my thoughts of negativity, and decided to take a shower instead. I thought about maybe finally using that chamomile and lavender soap my grandma got me for my last birthday. That was if I could find it first.  
  
  
 **1 week later - Friday 13th - Exams finished - 5:13pm**  
 _"I'm so proud of you, Evelyn. Your grandfather is too."_ The cheery voice of the seventy-year-old echoed through the phone. _"Well done for these past weeks. Your hard work is going to pay off come results day, we're sure."_  
  
"Thank you, grandma." I smiled sadly, my throat starting to ache.  
  
 _"Make sure you come and see us over the summer."_ She reminded me in her kind tone. I squeezed my eyes shut.  
  
"I will. I promise."  
  
 _"I'll hold you to that."_ She chuckled gently. _"Have a nice summer break."_  
  
"You too." With that, I ended the call and took a deep breath in, running my hands over my face and flinching when I put pressure on my right cheek. It still stung and I'd surely be getting a bruise there in the next few hours. Daniel D sure has a good swing. Even if it was because of a misunderstanding. I was barely holding myself together as it was following exams week, and I was pretty damn sure I'd failed every single one. Even P.E. for both the physical and theory. Fuck me, can today get any worse?  
  
I moved off the floor of the apartment beside the sofa at the buzzing noise to my apartment phone. Picking up, I quickly let the pizza guy into the building and answered when the knock on my door came.  
"Tomato pizza and wedges?" A boy, barely any older than me with light freckles and a rosy smile asked. I nodded and he pulled out two boxes from the thermal back. "$8.50 please." He asked and I handed him the change and put the boxes on the cabinets beside me. "By the way, is that for real?" The boy gestured to my door. I furrowed my brow and looked to see something that hadn't been there when I got home a few hours before.  
  
 _'High-school failure - looking for a shag. Cheap slut. Prices to be discussed.'_  
  
Is that fucking serious?  
  
"Oh for--" I ripped the paper down, the writing had been scrawled on a notebook page in crappy marker and held up by fresh -and used- chewing gum. "No, it isn't for real," I told the guy still standing there.  
  
"Shame. You're actually kinda cute."  
  
"Get the fuck out," I told him with a growl. He quickly backed away and headed down the stairs as I stared at the paper in my hands. I felt that matching burn return to my throat and eyes. I knew who it had been. Sick fucks. What if anyone else had seen this? What if someone like  _Macy_ had seen this? Things had been bad before when in school, but to target me outside of it was another thing entirely. This was completely overstepping the mark, and I felt an anger build up inside me as the pain in my throat and eyes grew harsher in the attempt to keep my emotions at bay.  
  
"Evelyn?" This was not the perfect time to be hearing Macy's father's voice. No, it was not. This was the worst time. And as I read the words on the notepaper again, I snapped completely.  
  
I scrunched up the paper, tossing it inside my apartment and slamming the door, not even bothering to lock it as I ran down the stairs towards the front door.  
  
 _"Evelyn!"_ Mr Martinez's voice echoed around the hallway but I was already running out into the carpark before he could catch me. From there, I ran all the way down the street and into the village.  
  
I didn't know for how long I ran down the streets, ignoring the cars zooming past and honking or how many people complained when I nearly tackled them to the floor in my state. I just kept running until my legs were burning and my lungs were screaming at me to stop, and then I finally slowed down and stopped. I panted, bending over and resting my hands on my knees as I gasped and swallowed. I'd never done anything like that before, but I knew it was either that or throw a huge screaming tantrum in the middle of the hallway that would put a newborn to shame.  
  
I straightened myself up as I caught my breath, looking around to reveal I was once again in the rural area of town, and from here, I could see the old farmhouse that I hadn't thought about for a good few weeks, possibly a month. So like a weird trick of fate or coincidental thing, I was back here again. And I knew what I was going to do before I'd even started walking again.  
  
I reached the farmhouse faster than any other time I'd walked here, and hopped over the fence without checking for any signs of the dog or owner. I'd gone past the point of caring. Today was just too much of a shitshow to deal with the smaller details.  
  
I reached the door which had again been replaced with the same type of door that I'd kicked in quite a few times by now. And would now do again. I took a step back from the door, getting ready in a stance, before pausing.  
  
 _Did I really want to do this again? Was there really any point to this? Was today worth kicking in a door for?_  
  
I set my jaw and the door busted straight off one of the hinges.  
  
 _Fuck it. I didn't care anymore. I was too angry at myself to give enough shits._  
  
But I didn't leave it there like I would usually. Instead, my anger and hatred were still burning, and before I could stop myself, I was kicking the hell out of the door on the floor of this porch like it was trying to kill me. The wood splintered and creaked as I jumped and stamped on it, growling and yelling random sounds at it. My eyes burned and my throat did more, and I just let the tears roll through as I took all my pent up anger and aggression out on what could barely be recognised as more than a pile of splintered wood at this point.  
  
When I finally stopped, you couldn't even tell it had once been a door. My cheeks were wet and I wiped my aching eyes with my sleeve, kneeling and punching at the remaining pieces of wood that hadn't been broken up. I cursed in pain as my knuckles flared up from the brutality, but the adrenaline pushing me told me I didn't care. Until finally, I sat back on my heels, sobbed, and gave up. I sniffed and swiped my nose with my sleeve, letting the rest of my cries out that weren't to be wasted on the wooden mess beside me. After a good few minutes and the last of my tears left me, I steadied my breathing and again looked to my side.  
  
Someone was going to be really confused when they got home.  
  
Speaking of, now that the adrenaline and anger were gone, the initial anxiety of getting caught prickled in my stomach and I looked around in a slight panic. Standing, I pulled my hood up and quickly began walking away from the scene, jumping over the fence gate with tired legs and realising I'd definitely need to be bandaging my wrists as well as putting cold patches on both them and my cheek bruise from earlier. I stumbled my way back home, gritting my teeth through the pain and finally getting back to my apartment to head inside, smelling the cold pizza and wedges waiting for me.   
  
  
 **Clint's POV - 07:30pm - Same night**  
Third time. This is the third time I've come home to Lucky barking as soon as I let him off the lead into the garden, and I've searched the house after realising the door had been taken down. This time, though, it was more than a simple kick-in. When coming back out of the house, I saw that this time the door was thoroughly broken apart, like someone had picked a drunken fight and mistook it for the opponent. It honestly seemed to have almost had a sledgehammer taken to it, but the boot-like shapes imprinted in the wood suggested otherwise. Why the hell was someone so against wooden porch doors?  
  
Lucky made a noise to grab my attention and nuzzled something small and rectangular my way. I furrowed my brow, carefully kneeling down to see what it was. I flipped over the black case and pressed a button towards the bottom, making the screen illuminate the darkness of the porch. Lucky barked twice as I focused on the screen, and found a sense of triumph as I realised the value of what was in my hands.  
  
  
 **Evelyn's POV - Same time**  
I reheated the food boxes in the oven, sighing and running my hands over my sore face before going to the sink to wash my hands and wrap them up. But after bandaging over my sore wrists, something occurred to me that made me scream **_"Shit!"_** out loud when I checked my pockets.  
  
 _Where's my phone?_


	6. Summer job

**Evelyn's POV - Wednesday 18th July**  
The final week of the high-school year was one for 'celebration'. Exam relief, college enrollment appointment making, in and out of school parties -that I was never invited too- and such alike. It was a week with no real lessons and just playing games or other random things that were really just a blur or a constant worry for me.  
  
I still didn't have my phone back, but I had tracked it to, drum-roll please, that house I kept breaking down the door to. Yeah, I'm not going back there. Why? Because I doubt that even Macy's puppy eyes would be able to convince the person in that house to not call the police on my painfully tired ass. So, my grandma knows only to call me on the house phone and I cancelled anything connected to my own, not that there was much on there. And I was undeniably thankful that I was at least smart enough to put a long password on there. The school had always tried to drill in the messages about the internet and personal safety. I'm glad I listened. Sometimes.  
  
I'd managed to get to Wednesday and I hadn't been mixed up in any fights or trouble, surprisingly. Although there wouldn't exactly be much point in suspending me on the final week, the school wasn't doing a lot anyway other than reminding kids of their fast coming futures. I had three different colleges that had rejected my applications. Only one, on the other side of the city which would be a pain to get to, had given me a chance with an interview in the upcoming weeks before enrollment. I was less than thrilled. The college had a reputation for... not producing very well behaved kids, lets put it like that. But it seemed that was the only place that would take me, with my reputation and lack of references or life experience. And I wasn't interested in apprenticeships.  
  
The bell ringing for the end of class broke me from my thoughts. After standing up and being barged into by two football assholes I headed out of the classroom, trying to remember the names of the places I had applied for summer jobs at.  
  
  
 **Clint's POV - The same day**  
I'd shown the phone to Nat. Nat had laughed. That was the first sign that I probably should have just dropped the whole thing then and there.  
  
"Look, if she, or he, doesn't come back for their phone in a few days then you know that they're going to leave you alone. Or they don't know they dropped it." Nat said over a cup of SHIELD cafeteria pudding. "Let me see the photo again." She held out her hand and I passed over the phone. She looked at the home screen of a girl with brunette hair and green eyes, overlaid with a _'NERD'_ filter that affected her appearance slightly. She looked like a happy teenager. "She's maybe sixteen, seventeen. High-school student. Or, this could be a picture of the owner's girlfriend for all you know."  
  
"I ran it through SHIELD's database and got a match." I took the phone back. "She's a student at Willow Avenue High, just finishing her final year this week. The only listed family members were a grandmother and grandfather. Her school Willow Ave. High is in my neighbourhood, the building beside the grand park. Its a nice place for the neighbourhood we're in."  
  
"So whoever the phone belongs to most likely goes there, if not her." Nat nodded. "What are you going to do about it?"  
  
"That's what I was going to ask you." I rubbed the back of my neck, glancing around at the sparse agents in the cafeteria at this time of the day. "I can either ignore what happened and keep the phone. Or I could go and return it." I put the phone on the table, looking at the picture again. I've never understood the interest of photo filters. "Then there's the possibility I can also go and press charges against her but..." I shrugged at the phone.  
  
"...She's a teenager." The redhead finished for me. I nodded. She hummed, taking another bite of her pudding. "Well, if you press charges, you're putting her down for breaking and entering - _allegedly_ \- and also to repay you $600 which I very much doubt any kid going to school in your neighbourhood can afford on their own."  
  
"So, what do I do?" I brushed my hands over my face and through my hair. "Ignore it and move on or potentially ruin a kid's start in life?"  
  
"You said she's just finishing her school year for the summer, right?" Nat put her pudding cup down on the metal tray. I nodded, pushing my neglected one to the side so I could cross my arms on the table. "I might have an idea. But I doubt she's going to like it." Nat sipped the straw of her drink, tilting her head. I raised an eyebrow and leaned forward.  
  
"What do you got?"  
  
  
 **3rd Person POV - Friday**  
Evelyn didn't enjoy going to the headmaster's office at the best of times, but this time she hadn't even done anything wrong. Danny just got a spontaneous nosebleed for being stupid. It was a newly discovered symptom. But still, on the last day when she should have really just walked out of the school since no one could exactly stop her after graduation, she was heading to the room she had seen more times than any student had a right too. She could probably map out the entire room item-for-item if she was asked.  
  
Knocking on the door and hearing the regular reply, she opened the door and closed it behind her. Two things were apparent to her immediately. One, there was a smile on the headteacher's face for once. Two, there was a stranger she'd never seen before standing beside Headmaster Drummond.  
  
"Have a seat, Miss Summers." His gravelly tone invited her coldly. Evelyn sat down in the chair, eyeing the stranger and putting her bag down by the chair side. "Miss Summers, this is Mr Barton. Mr Barton, this is Evelyn Summers."  
  
"Hi." She waved awkwardly.  
  
"Hello." Barton nodded back. Evelyn felt suspicious of the situation now more than before.  
  
"It has recently been brought to our attention at the school that you have been..." The headmaster picked up a paper from the desk, squinting with his glasses. " _'Kicking in Mr Barton's door'_ once a week for the last few weeks. Added up: a grand total of four times." Drummond tilted his head at the girl, smile still present on his face. Evelyn felt fear shoot through her.  _Oh. Shit_. "Given your past in violent behaviour and outbursts, I have to say this knowledge does not surprise me, Miss Summers." He put the paper back down, clasping his hands together on the desk.  
  
"Do you have any evidence?" Evelyn asked softly, eyes flicking between the two men. Mr Barton, brunet hair and dark blue eyes that were looking at her made her feel uncomfortable.  
  
"CCTV cameras placing you on Mr Barton's street at the specified times of each break-in. And this..." The headmaster put a device down on the table, sliding it over. "Is this your phone?" Evelyn clicked the home button, seeing her own face lighting up onscreen. She hated that photo. The teen nodded. "This was found on Mr Barton's doorstep last Friday when his door had been kicked in for the fourth time." She knew why he was smiling now. "You have been caught, Evelyn."  
  
"Why is this a school matter, and not a police matter?" Evelyn picked up her phone. No notifications. Usual stuff.  
  
"Mr Barton's position in his organisation put him eligible to bring this to our attention." Another sheet was slid across the table to the teenager. Glancing over it said Mr Barton was a standard law enforcement officer. _Double shit._ "And until the end of the day today, you are still a legal student of Willow Ave. High, making it our priority."  
  
"What are the charges?" Evelyn scanned the logo-marked sheet.  
  
"Charges are, but are not currently restricted to four counts of breaking and entering, as well as property damage up to $600." Drummond seemed all too happy to tell her, smile present until he saw Barton furrow his brow at him and the smile disappeared.He cleared his throat. "But Mr Barton wants to offer an alternative." The student glanced at the stranger.  
  
"Since I'm aware you're a teenager and most likely can't just hand over $600, be it your or your grandparent's money..." Evelyn glared slightly at the fact he knew that information. But then, he was a police officer. He could find out if he needed too. It was most likely the same way he found her in the first place. "I want to offer you a summer job: working at my house and farm - four days a week for six continuous weeks across the summer holidays. You'll work off the money for the doors and after you finish, we will never speak of the incident again." Barton repeated Natasha's idea, part of him wishing that didn't sound half as stupid out loud as it did in his head.  
  
"What days?"   
  
"Monday, Tuesday, Thursday and Friday. Six hours a day, and you'll get your lunch for free. Those days change depending on any other schedule you may have out of school. Under the lawful supervision of an adult at all times and completely safe. You'll have access to the house facilities and a phone should you need them."  
  
"And if I refuse?" Evelyn had to at least consider it.  
  
"I wouldn't advise that, Miss Summers." Head. Drummond jumped back in with that smile again. "You would surely go to court over this matter, and with a reputation like yours, you would most definitely be looking at time in a correctional facility for a few years." The explanation made the teen freeze. "And we'll have to inform your grandparents of this, of course. I'm sure they'll be thrilled to learn of this development." Drummond reached for his desk phone.  
  
"Okay, hang on, wait." Evelyn put her hand on his, stopping him. "Don't call them just yet. Just... let's just talk this out." Drummond watched her for a few seconds before withdrawing his hand and she pulled back her own. Taking a deep breath, she turned her attention to the Officer standing barely metres away. "Six hours a day. Four days a week. On a farm under supervision. And then that's it. Right?"  
  
"You can walk away at any time. No one can physically keep you there. I can promise I won't touch or harm you. If I ever did, you can call the school or the police and they will deal with the incident." Barton nodded, crossing his arms.  
  
"What do you say, Miss Summers?"  
  
 Evelyn sat back in her seat.  
"Out of the limited options I have and the first one includes me spending the rest of my early adulthood in a cell, I'm gonna go with option two." She rubbed her temple with two fingers. If those fingers were aimed almost at Barton, she was most definitely not subtly flipping him off. No, she wasn't. Barton handed her a paper with the agreement typed up and written out, legally binding. The full nine yards.  
  
"Start Monday next week. 9am."  
  
"Can we change that to 10, please?" Evie asked softly. Barton looked confused. "I'm a teenager, its hard enough to get out of bed for school as it is."  
  
"10am. That means you leave the farm at 4pm."  
  
"Done." Evelyn signed at the bottom beside Barton's own signature and the witness signature of her headmaster.  
  
"I hope you have a wonderful summer, Evelyn." Drummond smiled as he separated the pages to take a copy of his own and put it on the desk.  
  
 _This was going to be interesting._


	7. Day 1

**Monday 23rd July - Week 1**  
As soon as my alarm went off that morning, I knew my life was in for a tremendous change. Showering and changing I tried shaking off my nerves and telling myself not to care. After pulling on my boots and realising that wasn't happening, I headed out the door with my backpack, walking down to the farmhouse and arriving fifteen minutes early because I was so concerned about being late, not sure whether I was to wait outside or go and knock on the door. I took a few minutes to decide before hopping over the fence gate and walking up to the wooden door that had again been replaced, knocking on that.  
  
"You're early." I didn't expect the voice to come from behind me, so I have no shame in admitting I jumped before turning around to see... (Officer?) Barton standing behind me in a grey shirt and black cargo pants, a ragged cloth resting over his shoulder.  
  
"Yeah, I'm not usually... concentrating when I walk here," I responded softly, rubbing the back of my neck. The officer pulled the cloth from his shoulder, threading it through his hands. "I know its probably a little late for this but I am actually sorry about the door. I didn't mean to kick it in so many times."  
  
"You did mean to kick it in though."  
  
"...Technically." I said and the look I got in return told me I might want to shut up. "Right, I'm gonna stop myself before I dig a bigger hole for myself than I'm already in." A bark from the other end of the garden caught my attention as a gold retriever bounded over and stood panting, looking between us and at me more suspiciously.  
  
"Lucky, easy." Clint reached out a hand for 'Lucky' to nuzzle. "This is Lucky. Lucky this is... Emily?"  
  
"Evelyn."  
  
"Evelyn." The officer patted the dog's head and said canine slowly approached me, head bowed slightly. "You're not allergic, are you?" Lucky sat in front of me.  
  
"Not that I know of." I tentatively reached my hand out for the dog to sniff, which he did, and then nuzzled my palm. I smiled and pet his head softly. "Doesn't seem so lucky with that eye of his." I noticed the damage as I stroked his short fur.  
  
"Saved me a few times and still stands by my side. I take it as a compliment and surprise he's survived this long." Clint responded as Lucky barked happily and rolled onto his stomach, paws up and looking at me. I chuckled softly at the canine, knowing we would probably be best friends by the end of the summer. "Right, I should probably show you around." Clint caught my attention, looking around for a place to start explaining. "Unless you already know the outlay of my house." Clint didn't bother to hide the hinting tone in his voice.  
  
"I've only ever made it to the front door to kick in. I'm not a thief." I began to follow him as he led me back to the driveway.  
  
"Your headmaster disagrees."  
  
"My headmaster can go suck one."  
  
" _Hey_." Clint's admonishing tone caught me off guard, pausing in his step. I stopped walking and looked down.  
  
"Sorry. Mornings make me cranky." I used the excuse I always would with my teachers, to the point they gave up with telling me off. Lucky nuzzled my hand, having been trotting happily behind us and I smiled politely at the retriever.  
  
"I'm going to have my hands full with you, aren't I?" Barton mumbled as he started walking again, more to himself than me. I didn't bother to respond and walked behind him.  
  
"What should I call you? 'Officer' or 'Mr Barton' or..?"  
  
"Clint is fine. Mr Barton makes me feel old." I laughed out loud before freezing. Clint spun around and narrowed his eyes at me. I bit the inside of my lip, just a teensy-weensy bit scared. He stared at me for a second, then chuckled. "Okay. Makes me feel _older_." I relaxed as he showed a smile and continued walking behind him as he began showing me around.  
  
  
The farm was pretty big as a whole. There was the main field ahead of the garden, the garden including a large wooden treehouse that no one used and a small pond in an area hidden by a hedge and a metal archway. There was the large barn connected to the house that I was specifically not allowed in at all, and then the rest of the house was relatively normal. There were two floors, living room and kitchen downstairs with two main bedrooms upstairs, a bathroom, and a storage/study area.  
  
It did occur to me to think why one guy and his dog needed such a big house, but then I decided not to ask questions about a police officer's habits. And at least my grandparents were happy I had something to occupy my summer break with. I mean, I wasn't _lying_ when I said I had a summer job. I was just a little less explanative about why I suddenly had said job.  
  
"...milk delivery comes on Monday and Thursday, and we always go to the Farmer's Market in town on Thursday mornings." Barton's voice brought me back into focus and I realised we'd stopped the tour. "I think that's everything." We were stood in the kitchen, the windows at one end facing the street and the windows on the other overlooking the garden and edge of the hedge that hid the pond. "You got all that?"  
  
"Yeah. I think so." I nodded, Lucky's claws tapping against the laminate flooring signalling his arrival. "So, what jobs am I supposed to be doing around here for the rest of the summer?" I asked as the canine went to lay down in his dog bed beside the patio door.  
  
"Well, how much manual experience do you have?" Clint asked an easy question.  
  
"Considering I'm only just a high-school graduate: basic household chores and how to take care of myself. That's about it." I rubbed the back of my neck. "I could probably chop firewood and things like that, I saw that stump and pile outside. Or wash a car." Barton took a second to consider that.  
  
"Alright, it's about 10:32 right now, so how about today you help me clear the chopped wood inside and maybe wash the dishes after lunch. Did you eat breakfast this morning?" Clint stretched out his arms to loosen the muscles.  
  
"Yes." That was a lie. I forgot... kinda. But he didn't need to know that. Clint nodded.  
  
"Right. Outside then." Clint headed for the patio door and I followed outside to the chopping block... let's stick with the farm way that means and not the 'I'm dead' way that means.  
  
  
It took longer than expected to bring the wood in, chucking it into a wheelbarrow and putting it in the patio to the side to help it stay dry. By the time we'd finished chopping and moving, it was nearing half eleven.  
"I'm not going to give you anything else to do before lunch so I should probably get started on that." I found myself back in the kitchen with Clint as he began pulling out two pots. "And even though I'm making sure this is easier because its the first day, you're probably going to have to bring something to amuse yourself because not even when I'm home on my own do I spend all day working and having no downtime. Especially if you're going to be here for six hours every day." He set the pots on the side, filling one with water and filling the other with a jar of sauce. "Are you interested in reading or anything? Maybe you could bring a book or a colouring pad or something." He glanced over his shoulder as he talked, focussing otherwise on the cooking.  
  
"I don't mind reading. English is a pretty good subject for me and I do tend to read in my spare time." I explained, leaning on the kitchen centre pod as he worked at the cooker on the counter lining the far wall that faced the road outside. "As for the colouring books, I'm eighteen, not eight." Clint shrugged as he threw some pasta into the boiling water pan.   
  
"Do you have any allergies? Your school records didn't say so."   
  
"No allergies. And I like pasta so don't worry." I nodded back gently and Clint continued to cook lunch for us. "You don't have to make me anything. I can just go buy something from down the street, you know."  
  
"I may not be paying you money for your work, but I'm not treating you like a slave either." Was the officer's reply. I supposed there was no more point in arguing the matter, and so I didn't bother. "Can you set the table, please? Cutlery is in the third drawer on the left." Following his direction, I pulled out two sets, placing them properly on the oak wood table on the opposite side of the kitchen. Following this, Clint plated up the food and put the two plates down, not commenting on the fact I'd put him at the top of the table and myself two seats away rather than sitting next to him. He put a washcloth folded on the table and sat down at the same time a wet nose on my hand made me realise Lucky had arrived. I pet him once before sitting down.  
  
"Lucky," Clint called him over and the retriever sat by his side. Clint picked up a clean piece of pasta with no sauce and held it out to Lucky in his palm. "Be nice." The dog gently licked the pasta piece out of his palm, chewing and licking his nose as he swallowed.  
  
"Isn't that bad for dogs?" I glanced at Lucky lying down beside his master, tail waving slowly.  
  
"If there was sauce on it, as the sauce is often acidic," Clint answered, spearing some pasta onto his fork. "I'll sometimes cook things for Lucky. I do check everything online first to make sure its safe." The officer smiled down at his friend.  
  
"That's sweet." I nodded, picking up my fork and starting to eat.  
  
The two of us ate in silence, with the occasional noise from Lucky on the floor waiting for his own treats before eventually Clint wiped his mouth free of sauce and glanced over to me. I put my knife and fork down, having eaten about half the plate. Barton stood, taking his plate and looking at mine.  
"Do you not want any more?" Clint noticed how little it looked like I'd eaten.  
  
"I'm fine." I shook my head. Clint stayed silent for a moment before clearing my dish as well as his own.  
  
"Right. You're on dish duty." Clint announced, running the tap. I mentally groaned and pushed myself out of my seat.  
  
"Thank you for the pasta," I said, picking up the sponge and starting to wash up the pots. Clint nodded and moved to fill Lucky's food bowl with a mix of the pasta and dog food as I cleaned up. Soon putting the dishes and cutlery to the side, I wiped my hands on my jeans and turned around. "What else did I need to do today?"  
  
"Uh..." Clint looked around, obviously trying to think of something small for me to do. "I need to call someone from work. Do you think after he's finished eating you can help Lucky exercise? Just find a tennis ball in the garden and toss it a few times. Don't go into the field, though, or you'll never catch him once he starts running." Clint chuckled softly and I nodded. Clint pulled out his phone and dialled something. "If he runs off without you, just come and tell me."  
  
"Alright." I nodded. Lucky finished his food, barking up at me. I walked outside into the garden, looking around the garden at the various dog toys before picking up a very chewed tennis ball. Instantly, Lucky was barking and wiggling his butt in the air, watching me intently before I tossed the ball across the length of the garden and he was chasing after it like roadrunner.


	8. Birds

_"So, how was your first day at your job, dear?"_ Evie opened a drawer in the kitchen, holding her phone between her cheek and shoulder.  
  
"Pretty good, I suppose. I mean, its a job four days of the week but it has its perks." Evie brushed off the golden fur of the retriever she had spent the last two hours of her job with, with a freshly bought lint roller. Why was dog fur always so clingy?  
  
_"Any luck with college applications?"_  
  
"I'm applying for a few more and waiting on others. I was sent back another application on Monday so I'm chasing that up." She put the roller away before sliding a pie out of the freezer to bake for dinner.  
  
_"Good, good."_ Her grandmother replied sweetly as she turned the dials on the oven _. "You remember your granddad and I are always here for you should you need us."_  
  
"I know, I know." Evie smiled tiredly, running a hand through her hair. "Love you."  
  
_"Love you too, Evelyn."_  
  
  
**The next day**  
"You're early again."  
  
"Better early than late, right?" Evie shrugged gently at Barton as she walked over to where he was kneeling by the water pump. Same usual clothes: jeans, boots and a dark grey shirt with a cloth thrown over one shoulder. "I'll get better at the timing."  
  
"I'm not complaining. I don't expect you to turn up on the dot, Evelyn." Clint stood, taking the cloth off his shoulder to thread through his fingers. Evie nodded gently. "Anyway, I want to introduce you to another job I want you to do after lunch. Until then, just do what you did yesterday, chop a few of the wood logs and wheel them into the porch. It will probably take you longer today because I have some stuff to take care of. But if you finish before lunch, which you probably will, just come to find me or maybe play with Lucky and a tennis ball. I was serious about bringing something to amuse yourself in the blank spots of the day." Clint turned around to walk her to the chopping block and wood pile.  
  
"What are you going to be doing?" Evie followed in step behind him.  
  
"I've got a lot of paperwork piling up and a few different confidential things to finish." Barton brushed off before unlocking the garage and removing the axe, closing the door before holding it out to the teen. "I trust you can handle this on your own?"  
  
"I'm sure I can manage." Evie took the axe carefully.  
  
"Alright. I'm in the house if you need me, but I really have to get some work done." Clint gestured to the house, already walking that way. "I'll see you at lunch or before." He jogged off towards the building, leaving the teenager standing at the bottom of the garden.  
  
"Bye then." Evie waved awkwardly and turned to the pile of wood beside her.  
  
It took about an hour to cut all the wood before wheeling it into the porch in the wheelbarrow. Lucky had found himself comfortable walking around with Evie and nuzzling her leg with a chewtoy in hand, prompting her to play with him for a little while before heading inside to look for Clint.  
  
The first official red flag warning that told Evie this wouldn't be a normal summer came with the arrow landing on the kitchen doorframe beside her head. She didn't scream, but stared frozen in a slight panic at the arrow that had come within five inches of putting a hole through her head. When she found her breath again, she yelled out the first thing that came to mind.  
  
"Are you _mental_?" Whipping her head to the other side of the room, Clint stood with his bow and looking with slightly wide eyes at the fact he'd nearly killed the high-school graduate.  
  
"Sorry." He blurted back. Evie began tugging the arrow out of the doorframe.  
  
"Oh, that's okay. You just nearly impaled and killed your summer employee for walking into the kitchen, but that's fine." The arrow came loose and she stared at him with a mild glare. Clint rubbed the back of his neck, inclining his head.  
  
"Can I have the arrow back?" He held out his hand, almost sheepishly. Evelyn rolled her eyes, handing it over.  
  
"I thought you were a police officer."  
  
"I am." Clint slid it into the quiver resting on the table beside a stack of papers and laptop.  
  
"Then why do you have a bow and arrow laying around?" Evie tilted her head at the quiver and bow in his hand. "And a professional set, by the looks of things."  
  
"It's just a hobby I practise on Wednesdays." Clint insisted, putting the bow beside the quiver.  
  
"It's not Wednesday."  
  
"I was... doing something for work and got distracted." He nodded to the computer and papers scattered around and looking to be rifled through.  
  
"Right, well, I know it's your house and everything but can you please try not to shoot me again? Or the next one really might stick me to the wall. I won't even get the chance to see which college will reject me next." Evie crossed her arms, muttering.  
  
"Applications not going well?" Clint moved to stand behind his computer chair, tapping a few keys on the keyboard.  
  
"Uh... its nothing really. Expected results and stuff." Evie shrugged it off quickly, not wanting to talk about it. "Anyway, you wanted to show me something to do today?"  
  
"Yeah. Um..." Clint typed a few things into the laptop before moving away. "You've noticed the little pond section of the garden behind the hedge wall, yeah? Well, I often put bird feeders in the trees there, and they and the birdbath need to be cleaned and refilled every so often. Think you can do that?"  
  
"Aw. You put up bird feeders?" Evelyn smiled softly, slightly teasingly. Clint rolled his eyes. "Yeah, sure. Where's the stuff to feed them?"  
  
"Bird food's in the same cupboard as Lucky's food." Clint walked to the kitchen island, pulling open a door and picking out a coloured bag with a bird illustration. "I'll show you them all in case you miss one."  
  
"I'm not five, Clint." The teenager followed him out into the garden, Lucky perking up from where he'd been happily playing in the grass and following them down the stone path to the garden area.  
  
  
The pond area was practically cut off from the rest of the garden by a hedge surrounding the area. There was a pond in the middle and a stone path running around it, a few trees and two garden arches. leading out two separate ways. A single bench and a birdbath beside it along with a few other bits of foliage were all that had been hidden away from sight.   
  
"There are five or six feeders. Just take a cup of the food and pour it in." Barton directed her, scooping a cup into the bag before filling the feeder plentifully.  
  
"Kinda makes me want to grab a book and read for hours on the bench." Evie was still looking around at the pond and bench.  
  
"It does have that appeal, doesn't it?" Barton chuckled, feeding the second feeder. "It was here when I bought the place. I saw no reason to get rid of it, and Nat likes sitting down here sometimes."  
  
"Nat?" Evie questioned.  
  
"Friend from work." Clint covered before refilling the cup and holding it out with a nod. "Get the two feeders behind you?" Evie grabbed the cup and filled the feeder exactly as he showed her, only spilling a tiny bit of feed as she did before refilling the other a little easier. Barton took the cup to refill the last before tutting and taking it in hand. "One of them's busted." He nodded to the weather-worn cracks that caused the feed to spill out. "There are spares in the garage beside the barn. Think you could grab one? They're on the shelf to the side." Clint directed. Evie nodded softly and left the pond area, heading back up the path to the garage on the opposite side of the driveway and inside, still unlocked from this morning with the axe.  
  
There were hay bales piled up against one wall, scatterings of hay crossing the floor with an old tractor in the middle. The tractor didn't look like it was up and running, and there were cogs and pipes scattered all around which nearly caused Evie to trip. Shelves to the side were where the teen found the spare bird feeders and soon left, heading back and replacing the broken one before filling it up again.  
  
"These usually get replaced once every week or so." Barton took the cup back, wrapping up the food before checking his watch. "And while on the subject of food, I should get started on lunch. I'm making chicken salad sandwiches. You alright with that?"  
  
"All good." Evie nodded, following Clint back inside with the food as he got to washing his hands and making sandwiches.


	9. Market

**Thursday 26th July - Week 1**  
Lunch had been good. Clint could make a mean chicken sandwich, and he didn't complain too much when Evie left half of the sandwich on her plate. However, throughout sitting at the table to eat, Clint continuously switched between his food and his computer, half focused on eating and half focused on whatever it was onscreen that kept pinging. Evelyn would have offered to help but he seemed already pretty fixated and she probably wouldn't have known how to help anyway, so she kept the offer to herself.  
  
After clearing the table, Evelyn washed the dishes and poured out food into Lucky's bowl on Clint's request, refilling his water bowl while she was at it. Barton was back at his laptop straight away, comparing documents in hand to ones onscreen and correcting where necessary. Evie glanced over a few times as Lucky chowed down, but she couldn't see much that she would recognise or understand.  
  
After all, she didn't have experience in knowing what SHIELD paperwork looked like.  
  
Taking Lucky out to play with tennis balls and other dog toys, Clint had stayed inside making calls and filling out work before soon enough, it was Evie's time to leave, and not see him again until Thursday.  
  
Which led to how she spent her Wednesday, sitting on the sofa with her laptop, fixing college applications and resending them with improvements and additions. She'd had one positive reply out of the lot for which she'd scheduled an interview in the weeks to come, but otherwise, options were being blocked left, right, and centre.  
  
Thursday came quickly, Evelyn dressed as she normally would in jeans and a band shirt but leaving her apartment, she noticed she wasn't the only one to be leaving at that time.  
"Hey, Evie!" The voice came before the sudden squeezing of her ribs, making Evelyn jump before realising her attacker was about half her size and also the personification of a cinnamon roll.  
  
"What are you doing still here? Aren't you supposed to be at school by now, Macy?" As the question left her lips, Mr Martinez came out of the apartment, holding his keys and a flowery baseball cap.  
  
"We had to come back for her sunhat. School's orders." Darren held up the object as he locked the apartment door.  
  
"Is it really that hot outside?" She glanced out of the single window the top floor had in its hall.  
  
"It is summer, Evelyn." The adult responded as the little Martinez unwrapped herself from around Evie's waist. "If you're outside today, I'd suggest putting on suntan lotion. A lot of it. Especially if you burn as easily as Macy."  
  
"They promised they'd let us have lessons outside if we had hats and water with us." Macy grinned up at the older girl, eyes glistening in childish excitement. It made Evie feel a little less tired at the sight.  
  
A bark from the lower levels of the apartment building caught Macy's attention, quickly starting to jog down the stairs towards what Evie could guess was Mr and Mrs Palmer on the ground floor heading out to walk Clarissa.  
  
"Macy! Don't run off ahead!" Darren called out to his daughter before turning to the teenager with a sigh. "If I'm lucky, we can get through one summer without sunburn and buying a bag full of aloe."He ran his hands through his hair, still gripping the bright, almost offending suncap. Evelyn chuckled softly. The man looked at his watch. "Macy's definitely going to be late today."  
  
"Well, let's go then." Evie locked her apartment door before walking to the steps. The teacher's assistant followed behind her.  
  
"I thought you were out of school now. Visiting your grandparents?"  
  
"No, I uh... I got a summer job." She admitted quietly.  
  
"Really? That's good. That's good you've got something to do for the summer." Mr Martinez smiled warmly as they descended the stairs. "Any progress with college?"  
  
"One, actually. I have an interview in a few weeks."  
  
"Excellent." He nodded back as they reached the bottom floor, seeing Macy happily giggling and playing with the old German Shepherd jumping up and down, happy with her own company. "Maybe we should get a dog." The father mumbled quietly.  
  
"You already have a cat."  
  
"Jazzy isn't going to last much longer. Figures another thing close to Macy is going to hurt her at the same time I need to tell her." His tone dropped as well as his smile, leaving behind regret.  
  
"She'll cope." Evelyn turned to him, having to tug on his paint-stained jacket sleeve to get him to pull his eyes off the floor and to her. "Darren. It _will_ be okay." The man took in a deep breath, holding it and swallowing before letting it out in a long sigh. There was silence between the two as they watched Macy and Clarissa playfighting on the ground floor of their apartment building without a care in the world.  
  
"Anyway, suntan lotion. And if you aren't wearing a hat outside, at least make sure you have a water bottle on hand for the day." He switched the subject, using his 'father' tone.  
  
"Mr Martinez..."  
  
"Darren."  
  
"Darren. I can handle myself." A phrase she had come to compare to a broken record in her life.  
  
"I know, I know, its none of my business." The elder held up his hands, chuckling in surrender before turning to his daughter having the time of her life with the old rescue dog while Mr and Mrs Palmer argued over the extendable lead. "Macy, come on. Let Clarissa alone. School." He crossed his arms at the smaller child, causing her to pout and stand before running over and giving Evelyn a last hug.  
  
"See you, Evie." She took her father's hand before heading out of the front door to the silver car in the car park.  
  
"See you, Mace." Evie waved back as the Palmer's eventually came to a decision about the lead, heading back inside their own apartment as Evie jogged out of the building towards Clint's.  
  
  
The farmer's market was busy, as per usual at 10:00am on a working Thursday. Stalls with stripes awnings lined up and down the street with various vendors and treats stocked on the tables and crates. Decorative signs advertising products and pricings hung from stalls, casting dark shadows on the street in the sunshine.  
  
Evelyn had been a few times before, and so understood the basic layout, but she rarely had time to go during school and on the weekends it was flooded. Most noticeable today, however, was how popular the cold food and drink stands were. Otherwise, Clint and she could actually walk through the aisles without brushing shoulders with other people.  
  
It was all going well and calm until the Clint turned to negotiate the price of a punnet of strawberries and Evie turned in a circle, freezing as she caught sight of a familiar group up the street. Already hearing the loud voices of the members who could barely ever keep their mouths shut, even in a public place, Evie winced.  
"Shit."   
  
By the time Clint had paid for the strawberries and put them in his bag, he turned round to ask the teenager if she liked strawberries only to realise he was talking to thin air.  
"Evelyn?" The SHIELD agent looked up and down the street, seeing no brunette teen in sight. "Evelyn?" He started walking around, growing only slightly concerned about the whereabouts of the ex-school student. She didn't have any allergies, she'd said, so why had she suddenly disappeared from his line of sight? "Where the hell..?" He walked through two stalls to another lane before finally recognising the jacket and hairstyle standing by a toiletries stand in the corner. Clint approached her, squinting at the soap sign she was apparently 'admiring'. "What are you doing?" Evie spun to him, something in her eyes he couldn't read before it disappeared into a neutral expression.  
  
"Looking."  
  
"'Looking'," Clint repeated. Evie nodded. "Well, can you please not wander off and go 'looking' without saying something? Thought I'd lost you."  
  
"It's not exactly a panic-inducing thing to get lost in a market for an eighteen-year-old. If you lose sight of an adult, go back to the place you both know. Look both ways when crossing the road. In an emergency, call someone you trust. Blah, blah, blah, safety measures of the police. Let's move on." Evie crossed her arms, looking at him expectantly. Clint took a moment to pause, looking at her closer. She definitely seemed bothered by something, almost on edge, but he didn't think it was because of him and the market.  
  
"Are you okay?" He asked softly, furrowing his brow slightly as he studied her expression.  
  
"I'm fine." She shrugged her crossed arms. Clint decided he probably shouldn't press it, and maybe it was just teenage hormones doing a thing. But he kept it in mind for now.  
  
"Do you want to pick up something fresh to eat for lunch?" The agent moved the topic on as people were starting to look at them, especially the owner of the stall who was eying the two almost suspiciously, and probably wanting them to either buy something or get lost.  
  
"Sure." Evelyn nodded, uncrossing her arms as Clint led her back to the food section.  
  
Clint picked up a heavenly smelling beef burger with most of the fillings on the board while Evie picked out a tub of tuna salad, going to pay at the counter when Clint offered.  
"I'll get it."  
  
"I chose it, I'll pay for it." Evie cut him off quickly, handing over a note to pay before looking to scold herself and glance back at him, "Sorry. I don't mean to have an attitude."  
  
"It's okay. This is a new situation for both of us. I didn't expect us to be best friends instantly." Barton responded as friendly as he could while the teen received her change and food back. She seemed to think on that before starting to walk with him back to the farmhouse. 


	10. Wrapped up

**Clint's POV - later that day - 4:00pm**  
It was nearly the end of the first week. I waved goodbye to Evelyn, Lucky barking as she hopped over the fence gate and headed home quietly, not sticking headphones in like I assumed, as most other teenagers did. Heading back inside with Lucky following behind, I grabbed a chopped log from the wheelbarrow before tossing it in the furnace. Outdoors was much cooler than it had been earlier in the day, having caused me to continuously ask Evelyn if she wanted something to drink to the point I'm sure she was frustratedly mumbling about me under her breath, but she didn't speak loud enough to confirm the idea.  
  
SHIELD work was keeping me busy. My laptop was backlogged with important mission files and paperwork I had very carefully either skated around or neglected in recent months... or years. There was only so much Coulson would forgive me for. And it turned out those things had deadlines. Imminent deadlines. Whoops?  
  
Nat was offering moral support... kind of. Being all over the place whenever Fury wanted to send her out on missions made for large gaps between contact, but she was sending 'helpful' messages when it came to talking about work and Evelyn. I didn't want to talk about the kid, feeling wrong since I only just met her, but it seemed all Natasha wanted to do being a curious spider by nature. And she was more than a little bit judgy about how I nearly shot the kid with an arrow for walking into the kitchen. It was an  _accident_.  
  
Clearing up in the kitchen and preparing for dinner, I tossed a few old note sheets in the trash, not missing half the tuna salad Evelyn had purchased at the market dumped there in its container. The kid had acted oddly at the market and then tried brushing it off. I couldn't help but think back to what her headmaster had mentioned about her - she was a difficult child. I had mixed feelings about that. She hadn't been very difficult at any point during the week, and in fact seemed fairly polite about things. Maybe it was the authority thing as she still believed I was a police officer and the threat of juvie. But it didn't seem put on at all. Something to think about later when I wasn't burning myself on a hot stove.  
  
  
 **Next day - Friday 27th July - Evie's POV**  
I actually managed to listen to Clint's advice and bring something along to entertain myself between chores. It was more an impulse buy at the store than anything but I'd bought a 'Crosswords and Other Puzzles' book for myself since II didn't own many books, and the ones I did I'd read a thousand times. So by the time I'd finished my morning tasks, I'd taken up residence on the bench in the middle of the cornered off garden, tapping a pen against my lower lip as Lucky laid happily at my feet chewing on a rubber bone.  
  
 _ **'Mechanic's place (6 letters)'**  
The 1st letter was 'g' and the 5th letter was 'g'.  
 ~~ **'Car?'**  
 **'Shop?'**~~  
 **'Garage?'**_  
I filled it in.  
  
 ** _'Class A icon (8 letters)_**  
 _Last letter was 'e'._  
I rubbed my face trying to remember my class textbook and the different coloured icons and shapes-  
 _ **'Triangle.'  
  
'A deadly concern working in a shop' (7 letters)**  
2nd letter 'x', 4th letter 'a'._  
 ** _'Exhaust'._**  
  
I was getting pretty good at these.  
  
"Evelyn!" I was pulled out of my state at the sound of Clint's shout. Lucky perked up and began trotting out of the garden with me soon following behind. "Evelyn!"  
  
"I'm coming! Keep your shirt on!" I yelled back at where he was standing in the porch doorway, jogging up the stone path. "Yeah?" I slid my bag back over my shoulder, holding the crossword book and pen in one hand.  
  
"Lunch."  
  
"Already?" I checked my phone for the time, brow furrowed.  
  
"Yeah. Come on. Hope you like wraps." Clint headed inside and I followed after him.  
  
  
Clint had his laptop out on the table again, shoved to the side as he reached to grab a flour tortilla and start putting fillings in. It was a make-your-own day, apparently, the tortillas and fillings in little bowls spread over the table top. He'd said he had no time for cooking something better with all his paperwork and who was I to question him? This gave me more control over what I was eating, anyway.  
  
A tortilla wrap, some chicken and a helping of lettuce later, I wrapped up my food and started nibbling. Barton was already two down by the time I got halfway through, and he coughed.  
"Mechanic crosswords, huh?" His eyes flicked to the book I'd left out on the table, pen marking the current place I was up to.  
  
"I study engineering. It's good practice." I shrugged, swallowing another bite.  
  
"Something you want to continue in college?" He wrapped up his next helping, taking a big bite that was almost half the wrap.  
  
"Uh, maybe." I didn't how comfortable I was discussing college with Clint. He was practically a stranger. He was probably just trying to fill the empty silence with something other than his loud chewing. "Not many colleges offer it around here. Not many  _colleges_ around here, actually." I took another bite of my wrap, thinking.  
  
Clint finished after his third and I finished my first by then. He stood, wiped his mouth before standing out of his seat, picking up his empty plate before looking at mine.  
"You not gonna have another?"  
  
"I'm stuffed." I shook my head.  
  
"You've only had one."  
  
"I don't eat that much." A shoulder shrug. The man seemed to watch me for a moment, eyes flicking between my plate and my face as if thinking about how his next words would sound.  
  
"Are you... okay in terms of food?" He tried to word it carefully. I furrowed my brow. "You don't eat that much when you're here. You threw out half your tuna salad yesterday." His eyes seemed to look my body up and down, and I suddenly felt very self-conscious.  
  
I knew I'd lost  _some_ weight since moving into my own apartment and sure it was kind of noticeable in the way my clothes looked a little too big but it wasn't  _that_ bad. It wasn't like I didn't eat or take care of myself. It just wasn't the main thing on my mind all the time.  
  
"I'm fine." I finally managed to get out, crossing my arms over my body, almost subconsciously.  
  
"I can make you something else if you want it."  
  
"Barton, I'm  _fine_." I snapped before I could keep it in. Clint seemed taken aback, blinking at me before slowly turning away and heading over to the counter with the sink.  
  
"'Clint'." It was a half-hearted mumble, but he corrected me anyway as he turned to put the dishes on the side. I stood up, heading over and filling the sink with soapy water.  
  
  
 **04:35pm**  
I dumped my bag on the sofa, crashing down onto it without caring about getting dog fur everywhere. I'd sort it out later. But for now, I just wanted to lie down and nap, then plan my weekend.  
  
Yeah, plan my weekend? What do I usually do on a weekend?  
  
Uh... nothing. Yeah, nothing. Weekend planned. Done and done. What were other teenagers doing at my age on Saturdays and Sundays? Going out and getting drunk before passing out either in the street or at a friends house with barely any memory of the night before? Sounds boring.   
  
I pushed the thought to the back of my mind, shrugging out of my hoodie and standing up, shoving it in the wash along with the laundry sitting in the hamper beside the washer. I'd survived my first week at Officer Barton's with minor accidents. I now had a routine and something to do over the summer, not that I was getting paid for it. But I didn't really mind about that, I was just glad that juvie hadn't been my only option, or my fate hadn't been left up to the headmaster. College applications were being rejected because of lack of references from anyone but my grandparents, and no one at my school cared enough to give me one that sounded at least half helpful towards securing a place.  
  
Maybe I could get Clint to write a reference... yeah, no. 'Good at kicking porch doors down' is not a good thing to have on a resume or CV. And I'm pretty sure 'refilling bird feeders' or 'chopping wood' weren't exactly transferable skills I could write down. I could look after myself on my own -mostly- and run a household without everything falling apart... or only every now and again. And my grades were actually pretty good, top of my class in most. So why did no one want me?  
  
I turned on the washing machine and went about fixing dinner, something quick that I could microwave preferably.  
  
Saturday rolled around quickly. Most of the day sent with the crossword book or being online and mindlessly scrolling through random blogs. As it got dark outside, I heard the telltale yelling and calling of teenagers heading out for their weekend fun, parties and stag do's that would usually end up with the police arriving and someone leaving with bruises. But it seemed more fun than what I was doing mindlessly wasting my time doing basically nothing. The yells from outside became louder as the group passed the apartments, and I got up to look out of my window and see the group walking down the street. I sighed, rubbing the back of my neck. Maybe it would be fun to head out for one night, get all dolled up and forget the other shit happening in my life right now, alleviate the stress even if only for one night. But could I really be bothered? And around my area where police cars passed basically every day with the alarms blaring loud?  
  
I decided 'fuck it', I was going to go out, go to a bar, get drunk and enjoy myself. Screw everything. I was going to go and have fun.  
  
  
 **Sunday morning**  
 _Bad idea._  
  
Head hurts.  
  
Painkillers needed.


	11. Hips don't lie

**Monday morning - Week 2**  
My headache cleared up after a day's worth of nursing, thankfully. And I promised myself that I would never drink again, just like every other teenager that wakes up with a hangover, only to do the same damn thing the next weekend. But since I wasn't getting paid for my summer job, it was probably a good idea to stop going out and spending more of my grandparent's monthly gift to me and just work on my college applications.  
  
Seeing Clint that morning, a few minutes early, as usual, was almost an odd comfort. Settling into this daily routine was actually making me feel pretty good, being outside a lot more than normal was doing good for me, I supposed, and at least it was warmer than it could have been. And being a person who studied Sports Education in high-school gave me at least a small advantage to keep up with the manual chores.  
  
Although the same could not be said entirely for Clint, it seemed, as I found out the next day when Lucky started barking at me in the closed-off garden. Looking up from the crossword book, I furrowed my brow at Lucky who barked repeatedly at me.  
"What's up?" As soon as I spoke, Lucky ran straight out of the garden arch back towards the house. Blinking twice, I got up, grabbing my backpack and jogging out of the garden. The retriever stood in the porchway, barking at me before retreating inside the house. Still confused, I followed the canine back inside, through the living room and into the kitchen.  
  
"Uh..." I looked at Clint.  
  
"Hey, Evelyn." He nodded back at me. I clicked my tongue, raising a finger in question.  
  
"What are you doing on the floor, Clint?"   
  
"I pulled something in my hip." He was lying on his back, head towards me and Lucky sat panting next to him, tail thumping against the laminated floor. A normal person would have asked 'are you okay?' or 'can I help?' or maybe even 'do you want me to call someone?' But none of those questions came out of my mouth because apparently, I do not function like a normal person. So, what instead tumbled out of my face was...  
  
"How old  _are_ you?" I squinted at his form on the floor, face twisted in pain as he tried unsuccessfully rolling onto his side before pausing. He glared up at me as well as he could from his position. I forced down a laugh.  
  
"Are you just going to stand there staring or are you going to help me?" He held out an arm for me to assist. I crossed my arms.  
  
"If you say 'please'."  
  
" _Please_ help me up." Barely a hesitation. I liked that about him, he wasn't without manners regardless of who he talked to. I grabbed his hand and with a little more effort than expected, because his muscle mass gave him more weight, I pulled him off the floor as he winced and bent forward, grabbing the island counter.  
  
"Do you need an ice pack?" Having done P.E. most of my life, I'd learned how to deal with pulled muscles. More out of the physical experience than studying from a textbook because I'm an idiot and don't listen to my own advice.  
  
"Rest, ice, compression, and elevation." Barton listed off as if he'd done this a million times. "Can you grab the one in the freezer?" He gestured behind me and I retrieved it, noticing there were at least three packs in there waiting to be used. Passing it over he placed it on the back of his hip with a groan.  
  
"Good thing Lucky came to get me." I patted his head when the canine nuzzled my leg as if to congratulate me.  
  
"I could have handled it."  
  
"Could you, though?" I scrunched my face in scepticism.  
  
"Stop it with the age jokes. Or I'll start throwing them back in your face." Barton gave a fair warning. I was barely motivated to stop. If anything, that was just more tempting. "Looks like the couch and TV are gonna get some use this week." He stood back up, wincing only slightly. "If I can figure out how it works."  
  
"You don't know how a TV works? You are  _so_ -"  
  
"Evelyn..." Clint said with rising intonation, the tone was warning but his eyes were glinting with humour. I chuckled softly and held up my hands in surrender. "I've been trying to get a friend round to fix it for weeks because apparently there's something wrong with the back. Crossed wires or something, I don't remember." The officer shrugged and I glanced back into the living room where the TV was, fairly big with wires leading around the stand. I thought for a second.  
  
"I could take a look if you wanted," I suggested quietly, Barton glanced at me. "I mean, I've finished everything else I was supposed to do today," I added with a shoulder shrug.  
  
"Be my guest." Clint waved and started walking into the living room. "Hell, if you can figure it out, I'll pay you what I was planning on paying him." He picked up his laptop and headed to the couch.  
  
"Don't put too much faith in me," I mumbled quietly, hands in my pockets, following him.  
  
  
So, Clint grabbed his laptop and managed to get himself in a comfortable position on the sofa while I investigated the back of the TV. I couldn't make out what was wrong at first, then I realised what he meant by crossed wires. The wires were a mess on the floor, nothing seemed to have a beginning or end and it was all just bundled in a ball like string. But it wasn't unfixable, so I sat down and started to untangle the wires little by little. It was just like what happened with grandma's Christmas lights every year even though I always specifically remember putting them away perfectly straightened out.  
  
It didn't take long for Lucky to locate us in the living room, bringing his favourite tennis ball inside and dropping the drool covered item into the mess of wires already sat in my lap. I rolled it a little away for the canine to chase, getting a few seconds worth of untangling in before the ball was plopped back on my knee again, soaking through my jeans. The cycle continued until I ended up tossing it a little carelessly onto the sofa Clint was reclining on.  
  
"Argh! Lucky,  _no_..." Clint groaned as Lucky stood on him sniffing around for the ball. Eventually managing to get the dog off him and not feel the pain in his lip, he sent a glare my way.  
  
"Sorry?" I shrugged one shoulder and he just rolled his eyes, muttering something I couldn't hear and going back to typing what seemed to be a report for something. I wanted to ask what it was about, or how he was getting these weeks off, or if he wasn;t getting these weeks off if he was doing night shifts, but I didn't feel that comfortable with him to start poking into his social life, and it was most likely classified anyway, so I returned to untangling the wires and finally starting to connect them to the TV.  
  
It took about fifteen minutes to figure out what went where since everything looked the same with bare millimetres difference to the wire ends, but I finally completed it, picking up the remote and switching it on, hearing the startup sound with a satisfied smile.  
  
Clint perked up behind me, watching the TV return to its regular menu. I handed him the remote. He poked around the menus and channels to check everything was in order. He grinned.  
  
"You're amazing." He put the remote down and laid back. "You're definitely getting paid."  
  
"You don't need-"  
  
"I was going to give it to my friend for fixing it anyway. I won't miss it. Plus, you deserve it." Clint didn't sound like he was going to let me decline, so I gave up and instead nodded softly.  
  
"Thank you."  
  
  
The rest of the day ran smoothly until I grabbed my backpack and was heading to the fence gate before Clint caught up with me.  
"Here. You forgot this." He held out a white envelope addressed to no one. I took it cautiously from his hand as Lucky came skittering out of the house to sit between us, tail wagging happily. I opened the envelope and counted the notes inside.  
  
"This... is a lot." I looked up at him. Well, $50 was a lot for me, especially for just having untangled a few wires.  
  
"It's an expensive TV. And it's honestly not that much." The officer shrugged one shoulder. "Thanks for today." He nodded to me and I put the envelope in my backpack.  
  
"No problem."  
  
Wednesday went by in a blur. I put away the money safely to save it, feeling a sense of pride at the fact I'd been paid for using my skills for something. Maybe finding a job like that wouldn't be so difficult after all.  
  
  
 **Thursday - 3rd Person POV**  
Thursday's Farmer's market was not interrupted by Evie running off to the soap stall again, and things otherwise ran smoothly, even with Clint still every so often getting twitches from his hip as it almost fully healed up from pulling the muscle.   
  
Lucky skittered inside the house with Evie following after him, heading to the kitchen for a drink before being stopped by Clint on the couch.  
"Evelyn?"  
  
"Yeah?" Evie paused and glanced at him.  
  
"Can you tell if this is the same person or not?" Clint turned his laptop screen around, two images of a male, in his thirties with short hair and stark eyes, and Evelyn took a few steps closer, squinting slightly.  
  
"I'd say so?" She didn't really get why he was asking her but she studied the images. "Different hairstyle and the added tattoo but the eyes are eerily similar." She tilted her head as Clint turned his screen back around with a nod. "Are you playing a weird version of 'Spot The Difference' online or something?"  
  
"Nope." The officer answered. Evie raised an eyebrow but didn't question it further. It was just another thing to add to the list of weird suspicions she was starting to have. "Ah, didn't realise it was lunch already." Clint checked his phone before getting up off the sofa.  
  
"Don't rush. You'll make your hip worse."  
  
"Shush." He put his laptop on the coffee table before standing, but not without a twinge of pain in his expression as he stretched out his arms. "Sandwiches good?"  
  
Evie gave a thumbs up.


	12. Little Miss Fix-It

**Friday - 3rd Person POV**  
Clint was feeling better than Tuesday. 'Serves him right for not doing his stretches' Natasha had teased when he texted her about the incident because they were both as bad as teenage gossips, apparently. But, yeah, feeling better than Tuesday. So much he was confident enough to try and work out why his car wasn't playing fair with him. It seemed this was the week for things in his house to start breaking. First the TV, then the car acts up. There was definitely something wrong with the engine, but nothing was leaking as of yet. And less than a little while after he gave up and took a break, leaving the hood open and heading inside to get a drink.  
  
Evelyn walked out of the garden, throwing a rubber bone for Lucky to chase after before her eyes caught sight of the car across the garden. Lucky nuzzled her thigh with his head, pushing the bone into her hand that she threw again before walking to the vehicle, unable to resist a quick look...  
  
  
Evie wandered back into the house in time for lunch, quickly washing off any oil or dirt that had rubbed off on her arms and hands before sitting at the table with one of Clint's sandwiches.  
  
It was maybe halfway through Clint's own sandwich where he began patting his thighs, remembering he had promised to check in with Nat that day. And his phone was not in his pockets. Must have left it near the car.  
"Left my phone outside." He excused himself from the table, leaving the teenager to watch him disappear and then go back to her sandwich, eating quietly in tiny nibbles and realising she still smelled faintly of engine oil, promising herself a shower when she got home. She heard Clint's boots coming through the living room then pause in the doorway.  
  
"Evelyn?" Clint cleared his throat, crossing his arms slowly.  
  
"Hm?" The teen hummed, taking another small bite of her sandwich.  
  
"Is there any reason why my car is not how I left it?" Barton asked simply and clearly. Evie stopped chewing, eyes looking at the archer, then continued chewing and swallowed her sandwich piece.  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"Don't play dumb, kid. I left the hood up, the tools outside the toolbox, and now the engine has been practically scrubbed clean. What did you do to my car?" Clint leaned on the doorframe, arms still folded. Evie put her sandwich down.  
  
"Your battery was overworked. The white powder on the outside means your alternator is overcharging your battery. And your starter plugs were completely busted. But you had some spares in the garage." The teen fiddled with her hoodie sleeve, eyes downcast on the laminate flooring that was now much more appealing than looking at the assumably disappointed and probably annoyed look Clint was giving to the side of her head.  
  
"Well, aren't you just Little Miss Fix-It this week?" Barton chuckled softly, arms unfolding to rest at his sides. Evie furrowed her brow, looking back at him. She wasn't expecting that, confused when his expression didn't look annoyed in the slightest, but he was instead smiling softly.   
  
This was probably the time to try and talk herself out of the trouble she was still suspecting she was in.  
  
"I did mention I did Engineering in school. And living with my grandparents meant most of the house maintenance went to me." Evie shrugged gently, inclining her head. "I'm sorry."  
  
"Would you quit apologising for everything?" Barton kept his gentle tone.  
  
"Sorry. Fuck, I'm sorry. No. Shit! Fuck! I'm sorry. Damn it!" Evelyn shouted at herself, putting her head in her hand with a defeated sigh, smearing a small patch of oil on her face she missed when washing. A stifled noise made the teen peek through her fingers to see Clint doing a very shitty job at stifling his laughter, eyes going glossy and trying his best to hold his composure. "Don't even."  
  
"I said nothing." He grinned and crossed his arms with a pleasant sigh. "So, Engineering, hm? What other subjects did you study in school?"  
  
"Sports Education and English," Evie answered, going back to fiddling with her sleeve.  
  
"Your Headmaster said you were bright." Clint leaned carefully on the doorway, subconsciously nursing his hip.  
  
"My Headmaster called me 'bright'?"  
  
"Well, he said you were bright like a flickering lightbulb. You definitely had your moments, but other times you just didn't do the work."  
  
"That sounds more like him." Evelyn pointed with the spanner. "Its one of the nicer analogies he's ever given me."  
  
"You didn't get along with him much, did you? Or many teachers in high-school?"  
  
"Nobody likes high-school." Evie shrugged, swinging her legs over to the side of the chair so she faced the archer properly. "Now, if you're gonna yell at me for messing with the car, for fuck's sake, just do it already." Clint could tell she wanted to move on from the current subject. He was inclined to agree.  
  
"I'm not annoyed. If anything I'm impressed."  
  
"Excuse me?" Evie blinked in confusion.  
  
"You heard me, Little Miss Fix-It."  
  
"Please tell me you're not actually going to continue calling me that." Evie groaned, turning to sit properly in her chair.  
  
"Don't like the nickname? I thought it was cute." He continued to tease.  
  
"Stoooop." Her head dropped into her hands, elbows on the table. Clint laughed warmly.  
  
"Tell you what, if you stop making age jokes about me, I won't call you that. Deal?" Clint offered gently, tilting his head at the cringing teen. Evie pulled her head back up with a sigh.  
  
"Sure."  
  
"Right." Barton nodded, pushing himself off the doorframe and walking further in. "As I was saying, yeah, I'm impressed. If a little weirded out. Looks like I might even have to pay you again." He sat back down in his seat.  
  
"Seriously?"  
  
"Sure. Don't see why I shouldn't since I didn't ask you and I was considering taking it into the shop instead." He told her, picking up his sandwich and taking a large bite before continuing. "Admittedly, asking permission would have been nice as in my profession, noticing something wrong with my vehicle engine usually means someone's trying to kill me." Evie felt her stomach tighten in guilt. "But considering the oil on your hands and face, I took an educated guess that only you touched it."  
  
"Oh. Okay." Evie wiped her face with her hoodie sleeve before returning to her food, and the two continued to eat in silence. As usual, Barton finished his food faster than the teen, standing and going to start running the water for washing up. "Since when did the police force change their badge logo?" Evie suddenly asked.  
  
"Hm?" Clint furrowed his brow as he started running the water.  
  
"There was a badge in the car. Front seat. In the shape of an Eagle." Evie made the shape with her hands, fingers wiggling as to impersonate the wings. Clint didn't let his hand pause suspiciously on the faucet because he was an excellent agent. "And it was the same logo that was on the top of some of your worksheets on your laptop. Is the badge for work or for something else?" She followed up with. The archer tried to think of something quickly, as well as pushing aside the thought that the kid was a nosey ass.  
  
"It's a private division I serve. I can't tell you much about it because of legal reasons but that's what the badge is from." He replied, putting his dish in the sink. He could practically hear Coulson having a face-palming moment at his desk in SHIELD and not having a clue why.  
  
"What's the 'SHIELD' thing mean, then?" Evelyn stood up, chucking what was left of her sandwich in the bin and walking to the sink.  
  
"Classified." He moved out of the way of the taps so she could dump her plate in.  
  
"Okay then." Evie rolled up her sleeves and dropped the subject as she began cleaning plates.


	13. Curiosity

**Saturday - Week 2**  
A knock at her apartment door made Evelyn look up from the bag of ice she was trying to drag out of the freezer in order to cool down her drink or possibly press to her head to try and lessen the sweating she was doing from the summer heat that hit the city today. Dropping the bag back in the freezer drawer and shutting the door, the girl walked to her apartment door, following a second rapid knock on the wood before she managed to unlock and open the door.  
  
"Evie!" A high pitched squeal made the teen flinch before looking down at the six-year-old cinnamon roll standing in an absurdly loud yellow summer dress and dolly flats. "We're going to the park. Dad said I can ask you if you wanted to come with us!" She bounced on her feet, hair tied in small pigtails, neat enough it was clear her father had done it like that and not her.  
  
"Uh..." Evelyn leaned on her doorframe, tank top and shorts not nearly as bright as the child in front of her, only looking up when the opposite apartment door opened to see Macy's father walking out in a shirt, shorts, and holding a familiar flowery suncap. "Sure. Why not?"  
  
"Sunhat, water, and suntan lotion if you're coming. Those are the conditions." He said, pulling the hat onto Macy's head before she had a chance to run off.  
  
"Aw..." Evie pouted, not really liking the idea as much if she had to go dig out one of her ridiculously stupid sunhats.  
  
"We've got a ball and rounders set." Macy grinned up at her with shining eyes and an adorable little smile. Evie mentally cursed her for being comparable to a puppy.  
  
"Fine."  
  
  
It was an early Saturday afternoon, so the park was busy as it would regularly be, filled with kids running around hyper on ice lollies and sweets with adults taking babies and toddlers out on day trips. Groups of kids and parents alike would be running around on both the park equipment and the large field attached to the playground where kids were running around chasing balls and one another in games of tag.  
  
Macy had been part of the hyperactive tribe of children that ran around the park, asked to be pushed on the swings and nearly fell off the monkey bars to break a leg as you usually do when you're a child. But soon after, pulled her father and friend onto a somehow clear part of the field to play a strange version of rounders where they nearly lost the ball twice and Darren was very nearly hit in a very particular place that would have cut short the day out in a heartbeat.   
  
Her father was the first to tap out, not as young as he once was and panting a long time before the girls were tired, sitting on a nearby bench until Macy got bored and ran off on her own and Evie joined him on the bench, leaving the two eldest to watch the little roadrunner running and laughing and having the time of her life.  
  
Evie sipped on her water bottle, realising she'd soon need the toilet and made a note of the oath to the pub next to the park where the toilets were open for public use, before catching sight of a new group entering the park and suddenly feeling very, very nervous.  
  
"I need the bathroom. Can you watch Macy for a few minutes?" Mr Martinez announced and Evie snapped her head back to him.  
  
"No. Wait. Don't go."  
  
"Evelyn, I have to use the bathroom."  
  
"Just... don't go yet." Evie's eyes were wide and begging. Darren furrowed his brow.  
  
"Why?" He asked. Evie's eyes flicked away for a second before back to him. He followed her line of sight to see a familiar group of kids sitting by the bench and swingset of the park area. He sighed before turning back. "Evelyn..."  
  
"Don't." The teen said softly before her eyes moved away again. "They're staring. Oh god. They're staring." She looked away and over in another direction, trying to look as casual as a teenager having a panic attack could appear to anyone. If they were staring, they recognised her, and probably recognised Mr Martinez. She could already hear things she's heard before about her 'weird relationship' with him, this probably just looked like it supported that particular rumour.  
  
"Do you want me to talk to them?" Darren stood up.  
  
"No!" Evie nearly grabbed his arm in panic. He flinched at her sudden outburst. "You'll make it worse if you do. Just... stay here until they go.  _Please_."  
  
"Evelyn, I really have to go to the bathroom. I spent the first three years of my life waiting to grow out of wetting myself. I am not about to have the same kind of accident when I'm a grown man in my forties."  
  
"Mr Martinez," Evelyn said, eyes flicking between the teaching assistant and the group of kids in the park, swallowing. "Please." Mr Martinez took in a long breath, eyes wandering from the teen to the group sitting by the swings, then to his child running around and waving the rounders bat, laughing like a lunatic.  
  
"Macy. We're going to the bathroom." He announced, making the young child pause and pout.  
  
"But I don't need iiiit."  
  
"You say that now but believe me, you'll be needing it soon." He put on his parental tone before looking down at the brunette teenager. "Come on. We'll all go inside. But Evelyn, this is really a problem you need to face and eventually get over." Evie looked away. "You can't succumb to bullying. You need to tell someone."  
  
"I have. I told you." The student excused. Darren crossed his arms. "Look. Just for today, can we ignore that problem and just pretend it isn't happening? I'll deal with it when I'm ready to deal with it."  
  
"This isn't healthy."  
  
" _Darren_." Evie didn't bother to mask her pleading tone as she looked up at him. He knew that expression. It was like when kids were worried about injections or going onstage before a play. Fear. Only this was much more grown up, and much more real.  
  
"Come on." Darren walked over to his child, taking her hand and picking up their sports equipment before Evie followed the two inside the pub building beside the park and headed to the toilets.  
  
  
 **Monday - Week 3**  
Week three. Almost halfway through the summer. And halfway through the blazing heat of the season. Most houses' air conditioning was on full blast and many an ice-cream stand were bustling with overheating customers. Or for those whose air conditioning just wasn't enough, all doors and windows were open to let air travel through and cool the house naturally, such houses as Clint Barton's. That was the first thing Evie noticed when she showed up, as every door in the house was open wide and Lucky was happily lounging in the shade outside under one of the many trees lining the garden.  
  
But when she entered through the gate, not seeing Clint as she usually would, she gave a call of his name as she entered the porch. And that's when she spotted the doors open. Including a certain door that Evie had been told never to open and follow inside. The Barn door.  
  
It was open just a fraction compared to the others, but it was still open and not locked like usual. Evelyn looked behind her, calling into the house for Clint but not hearing a response, or even a set of footsteps coming through to see what she was yelling for. And there were no sounds coming from the barn either. Turning back to the wooden door, she bit her lip.  
  
 _You're not supposed to. Its like the one rule he has. You're not supposed to._  
  
Evelyn reached out a hand, fingertips barely brushing the wood.  
  
 _Curiosity killed the cat._  
  
The door creaked as Evie applied gentle pressure, falling all the way open to reveal the whole barn room.  
  
 _But satisfaction brought it back._  
  
Evelyn stepped inside.  
  
  
Clint jogged inside the house with his grocery bags, having decided it would be a good idea to get a few supplies before Evelyn got here, not expecting the line he'd have to wait in and then the delay in traffic. So, arriving back to the house late and not having arms alert his phone or seeing Lucky not barking and gripping anybody on the ground, he was satisfied leaving the doors open was an okay decision.  
  
Walking in through the porch, he was about to call out to see if Evelyn had arrived before him, but stopped himself as his eyes caught sight of the open barn door. Much wider open than he'd left it, and he could see one of the arrow targets from where he was standing now. Scrunching his face and gritting his teeth, he set his groceries down and hoped it was just a breeze that had opened the barn training room all the way open.  
  
"I thought I told you never to come in here." Barton's voice didn't make her flinch as he walked in. She barely reacted at all, staring down at the card in her hand, not seeming phased by the arrow and gun targets hung across the far wall, or the climbing frame to the side, and the weight training section spread out to the far corner.  
  
"You're not the police."  
  
"What?" Barton tilted his head. Evelyn turned to him with a dead expression.  
  
"You're not the police." She repeated. Clint blinked as the words processed in his mind, and what was in her hands registered. "I don't know who you are but you're definitely not a police officer,  _Agent Barton_." She turned the card around, his SHIELD ID, which had been in his backpack he'd left to the side of the room on a hay bale stack. Then she picked up a pile of plastic cards. "Or should I say 'Aaron Cross'. Or perhaps maybe its 'Hansel Hunter'. Or maybe it's this last one, 'Jeremy Renner'." She threw them back down on the hay and glared at him.  
  
"I swear this is not what it looks like." Barton began.  
  
"Fake passports, fake ID's, lockpicks, pocketknife, Eagle logo badge." Evie went further into the backpack, pulling out the different items and lying them in a line. "And those- well, I don't know what the hell those are but I have a feeling they aren't for updating your laptop storage." She put down a couple of his latest designed hearing aids that looked more like radio bugs than hearing aids. His ears itched when he remembered the pair he currently had in. "Have I been working in a killer's house for the last two weeks?" The girl crossed her arms at him.  
  
"Not exactly." Clint rubbed the back of his neck. He was definitely busted.  
  
"Not exactly?" She echoed with a tone of ice. "Who the fuck are you?"  
  
Clint had to think. It kind of was Evelyn's fault for coming in here when she was told specifically not to, and none of this would have happened and she wouldn't have found any of this out. But that didn't matter now. And he had a choice to make. Reveal SHIELD and its secrets to a nosey ass teenager, or leave her thinking he was something like a serial killer and run away screaming bloody murder.  
  
Fuck it. It couldn't get much worse from this point, could it?  
  
"My name really is Clint Barton." Clint started, Evelyn turned away. "I work for a secret underground organisation that operates outside the boundaries of the law."  
  
"Evelyn, how the hell do you get yourself into these situations? You should have just taken juvie." She massaged her temples with her fingers, mumbling.  
  
"The badge you found the other day with the Eagle. 'SHIELD' is the Strategic Homeland Intervention Enforcement Logistics Division. We're a counter-terrorism agency. We're special law enforcement and often deal with paranormal or superhuman activity." He sped to explain. Evelyn looked back at him, silent for a few moments as she studied him.  
  
"Ah, I get it now." She nodded slowly. Clint relaxed a little, thankful for the understanding. "You're completely mental." Evie nodded. Clint's hope disappeared as soon as it appeared. "Are you gonna kill me?" She asked suddenly sounding kind of scared.   
  
"What? No! Jeez, no! I'm not gonna kill you, Evelyn." The agent took a step towards her. She took two steps back. He stopped moving. "I've not laid a hand on you for the two weeks you've been here, what makes you think I would kill you now?"  
  
"Well, you already tried once."  
  
"That was an accident!" Clint raised his tone, and Evie flinched. He forced himself to calm quickly, taking in a deep breath. "Look, Evelyn, SHIELD is really a thing. Its a non-government organisation that fights against world catastrophe causing people and keeps terrorism at a low. I can show you papers if you really want to but just please believe me. I promise you I'm not insane, and this is all real." He didn't know what else he could say, and he was also realising how weird SHIELD sounded to an outsider or a normal working person.  
  
"How can I believe anything you say? You're not even a real police officer. Are you?" She asked, looking him up and down. His silence gave her a realisation. "Oh my god." She turned away, hands resting on her head. "You lied to my headmaster, you faked a police report and identity to get into my school just to talk to me. Why the hell would you do that?" She spun back to him.  
  
"I couldn't exactly walk up and tell them I'm part of an underground organisation that is supposed to not be known to the public and deals with problems normal people never find out about, could I?"  
  
"You had no reason to need someone to come here and work for the summer. You had the power to throw me in jail just for kicking in your door." Evelyn took a breath in and out, standing up and letting her voice go soft with confusion. "Why even bother to give me the other option in the first place?"  
  
"Well, actually, it was my friend Nat's idea." Clint glanced away.  
  
"What now?"  
  
"Natasha, who I mentioned that day with the bird feeders. She's a SHIELD agent too. She's working this summer and I'm taking the summer off for a much-needed vacation." He looked back at her, recognising the expression of scepticism. Not good. Not if he wanted to make sure he got out of this without being punched or reported. "Evelyn, I promise you, I'm telling the truth."  
  
"How can you ask me to trust you? Would you in this situation?" The silence to follow was the answer she needed. "Exactly." The teen crossed her arms, pacing a few steps away with a shake of her head, trying to wrap her head around everything.   
  
"Doesn't matter anyway. SHIELD's probably gonna reprimand me for telling a civilian about this anyway without being briefed or otherwise given permission. Coulson's gonna have my ass." Barton resigned himself to his fate, sitting down on a free hay bale and rubbing his face with both hands.  
  
"Then why tell me?" Evie looked back at him.  
  
"Its either tell you the truth or risk being reported to the police and giving SHIELD another round of paperwork to figure out and possibly a restraining order to deal with. And I think by now you deserve the truth from me, Evelyn." Barton's eyes were fixed down at the floor.  
  
There was a long silence between the two. No one moved, no one spoke, it was just... silent.  
  
"Do you want a cup of coffee or do you want to leave and never see me again?" Barton was the one to break the silence, completely expecting to be punched or slapped for such a question, and wouldn't blame the kid for doing so. Evie kept her back turned to him. "I won't stop you leaving if that's what you want to do, I don't care about the rest of the summer job. But if you stay, I will explain everything completely to you and answer any questions you have about this."  
  
Another silence.  
  
Clint didn't know what else he could say. He was irritated that she hadn't listened to him when he told her to never come in here. But had he really expected her to never be curious? They were standing in the middle of his at-home training ground. And she'd seen the badge. She was bound to figure something out sooner or later. He felt a sense of undesired self-idiocy settle in his gut.  
  
Similarly, Evelyn felt almost a sense of betrayal in her mind. She could list the number of lies he'd told her over the last two weeks on more than one hand, and she didn't even know if she could trust him when he said his name really was 'Clint Barton'. What was she supposed to believe? An underground anti-terrorism organisation? Paranormal and superhuman occurrences?  
  
Eyes flicking over to Barton hunched over his knees, head in his hands, Evelyn debated whether he was really upset with himself and the situation or just a really good actor. It was a fifty-fifty chance. Well, more like eighty-twenty, but since when had the odds ever been on her side before?  
  
Evelyn twisted to face him.  
  
"Do you have hot chocolate?"


	14. Barn

"SHIELD was tasked with maintaining both national and global security, organized to protect the United States from all possible threats. Run by its Director and the World Security Council, we've recently had to deal with the significant rise in enhanced individuals and dangerous advanced technology." Clint placed down two mugs on the table, one coffee one hot chocolate.  
  
"Okay." Evelyn pulled the hot chocolate to her, nodding gently. She stirred it with the spoon left in, adding a pinch more sugar to the hot drink regardless of the fact it was just as hot outside the house. "So what about the people who work there? Like your friend."  
  
"Natasha. She's my usual training partner in SHIELD and on missions together. She's probably going to cut off something important to my body for telling you this stuff but since she's so curious about you I suppose its only fair." Clint shrugged, sitting down at the end of the table, leaving Evelyn two spaces away.  
  
"Do you talk to her about me a lot?"  
  
"No. Though she does want to smack me upside the head for a few things like almost shooting you with my bow in the kitchen." He sipped the coffee.  
  
"Which brings us to another point... why the bow?" She gestured back towards the barn where she'd noticed his weapons and spares.  
  
"Its kind of my thing." Clint shrugged. Evelyn raised an eyebrow, sitting up and looking at him questioningly. "My codename is 'Hawkeye' for a reason. I'm a level 7 Agent and a professional marksman. It was a skill I picked up growing up." He didn't want to think about the circus, or Barney, or anything further back than when he was first recruited by SHIELD. And he was thankful Evelyn seemed to have gauged the fact that was where his personal life stopped being explained. "I can't tell you much more. I shouldn't really be telling you any of this. And I can't show you many descriptive files about our projects, there is a certain point I have to draw the line with this."  
  
"I think I'm getting the concept." Evie nodded softly, rubbing her temples and staring down into her half-finished mug. "Shit, Barton." She whispered at her drink, breathing in slowly.  
  
"You're taking this a lot calmer than I expected," Clint said carefully.  
  
"Trust me, I may look calm but for the last hour, I've been internally freaking out. And I've seen some pretty weird shit growing up, Clint. This may be the weirdest thing to come up so far but it's honestly not that unbelievable when you explain it all." She wrapped her hands around the mug in her hands. "To be honest, I'm just glad you're not a serial killer. Even though you still kill people."  
  
"Bad people."  
  
"Still people." She admonished. Clint nodded in fairness. She put her head in her hands again. "Ugh. My head hurts."  
  
"Take your time. I know it's a lot to wrap your head around." Barton spoke calmly as if speaking with much other emotion would disrupt the strange calm that had settled in the kitchen. "But you also have to swear to keep this under wraps. You can't go around telling anyone or blogging about it or whatever else kids are doing nowadays."  
  
"You are so  _old_." Evelyn shook her head. Clint kept his serious expression, undeterred. "Clint, who would I tell? Who would actually believe me if I told them my boss is some sort of... underground super spy assassin dude that works for a company that deals with inhuman and paranormal occurrences and who uses a bow and arrow as his main weapon?" She gestured her hands in circles. The agent remained silent. "See? See how weird this sounds from my end?" She rested her cheek on her fist as he continued to stare. "I promise I'm not going to tell anyone. And I won't blog about it either or 'whatever else kids are doing nowadays'." She out physical air quotes on the words.  
  
"You sure I don't have to negotiate a deal in return for your silence?" Clint asked as the pattering of claws on the tiles signalled the return of the panting canine who came and sat himself down beside Evie.  
  
"Think I could get a day off?" Evie chuckled, reaching out to pet Lucky.  
  
"I'm surprised you don't want the rest of the summer off," Clint mumbled into his mug, sipping.  
  
"So am I," Evie responded. "Like, anyone else I can think of would have probably punched you and run off as soon as they found that stuff in the barn but..." She shrugged, looking away. "I guess I just don't care now that I understand the context?" Her hand threaded through Lucky's fur. "I don't have the tugging feeling to just run off and never see you again. And as much as I don't want to admit it, this routine is better than spending the summer on my own just fussing over college and my grandparents."  
  
"Grandparents? Not parents?"   
  
"Plus, I think I'd miss this good boy too much." Evie obviously avoided the question, opting to distract herself and Clint by ruffling the retriever's coat. Barton sat back in his chair, hand lifting the mug off the table.  
  
"Maybe we should re-negotiate the terms of this summer job thing."   
  
"Hm?" The teen looked up from the dog.  
  
"And to be honest, I'm no longer comfortable with not paying you anymore," Clint admitted to her. Evie furrowed her brow.  
  
"But the whole point of not being paid for this was because I kicked in your door multiple times."  
  
"I think you've done enough recently to make up for it." Barton finished his mug and put it down on the table. "If you want to keep doing this, fine. I won't cut you off if this gives you something else to do other than sitting around your own home all day. But I won't force you to stay either." He rested his hands on his knees, looking at the teenager as pacifyingly as possible. Despite her words being accepting, the slight tensing of her body betrayed her still on-edge mind to the agent. Clint couldn't really blame her for that.  
  
"Alright." She nodded after a pause. Clint nodded.  
  
"I'll continue making lunch for the both of us, and I'll pay you on Fridays for the remaining three weeks you're here." Another pause before green eyes flicked up to blue.  
  
"Am I allowed to go into the barn again?" She sounded like a child asking for sweets before dinner. Clint blinked at her, then sat back.  
  
"You and locked doors just don't mix, do they?"  
  
"Technically it wasn't locked today." She responded.  
  
"Yeah, that's on me. I should have thought that through." He rubbed his face with both hands, fingers catching the short strands of his hair lining the top of his forehead.  
  
"Speaking of, where were you this morning?" The teen asked. Clint paused.  
  
"Ah, crap!" Clint was a blur as he raced out of the kitchen, Evie and Lucky staring after the figure that disappeared for a few moments before returning, looking mildly defeated, with two grocery bags that were about to rip open at the soaked through bottoms. Evie raised an eyebrow. "The ice and ice cream melted." The agent explained.  
  
"Oops?" Evie asked.  
  
"I'll get some later tomorrow." Clint shrugged, throwing it all in the trash before wiping his hands off on his jeans. "You have any flavour preference?"  
  
"You don't need-"  
  
"Don't you dare finish that sentence, Little Miss Fix-It." He crossed his arms. Evie groaned at the sound of the familiar nickname, causing the archer to chuckle. "Yes, I caught the age comment earlier." Evie groaned again, putting her head down on the table to muffle the sound dramatically. Clint rolled his eyes. "Come on, ice cream flavour." He gently kicked at the leg of her chair for extra prompting.  
  
"Raspberry ripple." The teen mumbled into the wood surface.  
  
"My girl." Clint grinned at the popular flavour choice. He didn't miss the small chuckle from the girl as he checked his watch. "Alright. Time for lunch, I think. I'll make sure to keep hot chocolate stocked in the cupboard for you." Barton turned to pull things out of the fridge, giving Evelyn a daring look when she opened her mouth to argue. Under the gaze of his serious 'no shit' look he usually reserved for new recruits at SHIELD, she quickly dissolved any argument she had and sagged into her chair in defeat.  
  
"Okay."  
  
  
And the day went on from there. Lunch was shared in a relatively comfortable silence before Evie went outside to continue her usual routine, and coming back in after ten minutes because the sun was scalding hot at lunchtime. Taking a break with a cold drink and an hour of TV -or more an hour of bickering about how the shows Clint liked to watch were shit- before both headed outside and into the garden.  
  
And this led to Evelyn being given the job of watering plants in the garden with a hose. Clint had apparently not seen the obvious danger of giving a particularly impulsive teenager an object of such power. And that's how watering turned into an eighteen-year-old vs a forty-something-year-old having a water fight in the garden. An  _eighteen-year-old_  and a  _forty-something-year-old_ having a  _water fight_. If Natasha had been there, she probably would have been laughing herself straight into Coulson's office, Clint imagined. Not to say Barton didn't give it his best, soon finding a bucket and a water trough.  
  
They probably drowned most of the garden by the time they both decided to tap out and not drown each other. But they were keeping cool in the summer heat, at least. And Evie went home more relaxed that day than any other day spent at Clint's so far.


	15. Aw, suds

**Evelyn's POV - 1:30pm - Wednesday**  
It was cooler than Monday had been, with Tuesday's weather to match. But not having been at Clint's yesterday because I took that day off helped me take a step back and analyse the situation in full. I must have been mentally disturbed to not have punched Clint when I found that stuff in the barn, or at least freaked out more and yelled or just done something other than sit down calmly and listen to what could have been a possible murderer. It was probably the shock.  
  
But then he explained everything... or at least some parts of it. And it didn't seem so far fetched or unbelievable anymore. And he did have a point, I'd been there for two weeks already and he'd done absolutely nothing _-except the arrow incident in the kitchen-_  to hurt me or ask me for anything. So, I suppose that added to my rationality in the situation and my judgement.  
  
And now came Wednesday. I wandered down the drive of the house, past the small patch of garden with freshly planted flowers and a perfectly trimmed hedge before walking up to the door and using the golden knocker three times. Only a short wait and a call of my name in question caused me to wander around the house and look through the gate into the back garden to see my grandmother on her knees with a pair of shears and rubber gloves, waving as she saw me.  
  
"Hello, Evelyn. You're a bit early." She checked her watch, kindly smiling regardless.  
  
"Always early, never late." I smiled back, moving past the gate into the back garden as the elder woman stood up brushing the grass off her jean-clad knees. "Where's granddad?"  
  
"Inside. He's baking pie." She pulled off the gloves and put them down on the outdoor table beside the shed.  
  
"What kind?"  
  
"Strawberry jam, I think." She began leading me inside with a smile from both of us.  
  
"Classic."  
  
  
"So, what's new in the life of Evelyn?" The silver-haired woman sat across from me on the sofa while I sat in the armchair, hand putting down a coffee in front of me with a wobbling hand, splashing only a little onto the coaster underneath it.  
  
"Not much, really. Just working at my job and college applications and such." I picked up the mug, wiping the handle subtly free of drink as she sat back with her own of tea. "I have an interview next week for one. I'm going to have to ask my boss for the afternoon off to get there." I took a sip and quietly muttered when I burnt my lip.  
  
"Yes, yes. How is the job going?"  
  
"Not bad. Its... different than I expected." I answered truthfully.  
  
"It usually is, dear." Her hazel eyes shone in the sunlight coming in from the window to the living room.  
  
"My boss is nice, at least. I've helped him fix a few things so far but other than that I just do normal manual work. But it's a job, I suppose."  
  
"As with many jobs, you start at the bottom and work your way up. Even for a job that only lasts a few weeks." She sipped her tea, not even a flinch in her face at drinking the more than likely scalding hot beverage. I nodded softly, tapping my fingers against the sides of my mug.  
  
"Anything new with you?"  
  
"Raymond got the all-clear from the doctor at his checkup last week. Perfectly healthy for a man of his age." She grinned happily and I smiled.  
  
"That's good."  
  
"You're looking a little pale, yourself, Evelyn." She tilted her head at me, eyes studying my face under the brim of my sunhat. It wouldn't be suriprised if she could see something I couldn't, even with her eyes., having retired out of the nursing profession only a few years prior. I bit the inside of my lip at the sudden accusation.  
  
"Must be all the sunscreen and avoiding the sun." I made up quickly, shrugging one shoulder and taking another drink before instantly regretting it.  
   
"Evelyn." The elder said in a tone that forced me to look back at her with an attentive hum. "You are taking care of yourself. Right?" She asked in that motherly tone that practically dares you to argue. I found it strange how my brain compared it to the tone Clint used with me when I fixed his car or on Monday when I argued about the ice-cream.  
  
"I promise I am," I answered in a half-truth, but she didn't need to know that. The woman regarded me up and down like a human lie detector, and I swallowed another gulp of my fairly bitter coffee.  
  
"Alright. If you promise..." She nodded as if she was still trying to judge my answer. But thankfully, she soon gave it up. "Are you staying long?"  
  
"I don't have any other plans for today. Wednesday is my day off from the job." I would have continued if the kitchen door hadn't opened and another figure joined the party.  
  
"Love, have you seen the- Evelyn!" He called as his eyes caught me in the armchair.  
  
"Granddad!" I responded in the same tone, stretching out my arms and nearly burning myself on the remainder of my drink.  
  
"How are you?" He asked, his normal itchy jumper and jeans covered with a black and white striped apron with a dash of flour caught on its centre.  
  
"I'm good," I replied softly. He tilted his head a little at me. "I said I'm good! How are you?" I raised my volume and asked.  
  
"I'm great, thank you." He smiled back and looked at my grandmother. "Irene, do you know where the sugar is?"  
  
"Behind the flour on the top shelf." She responded dutifully.  
  
"I checked. It wasn't there."  
  
"And I say check again because it is there." Came the confident reply.  
  
"I promise you, it isn't. I have my glasses on this time." He tapped one leg of his glasses, a small cloud of flour falling off his hands at the motion.  
  
"Let me have a look. I'll be right back." She told me before standing up and disappearing into the kitchen. Voices that sounded like mild arguing were muffled by the door before only a few seconds later it was opened again and my grandma walked out, rolling her eyes. "Daft duck. It was exactly where I said it was." She muttered, old bones inaudibly creaking as she sat back down on the sofa again with a sigh. "He just doesn't want to listen to me, sometimes."  
  
"I know the feeling." I nodded, putting my mug down on the damp coaster.  
  
The rest of the afternoon was spent talking about anything and everything and catching up since the last time I'd properly visited, which I was ashamed to realised was more than a few weeks beforehand. My grandfather was soon done with the pie which was as delicious as it has always been, if just a little bit on the sweet side for more than one slice consumption, but I got to wrap some up in clingfilm and take it home when I said goodbye. Maybe I'd take it to Clint's for lunch the next day.  
  
  
I did end up taking it the next day in my backpack. And Thursday was back to being hot, but not as scalding as Monday and Tuesday. And Clint had learned from his mistake of handing me the garden hose to instead water the garden himself... which led to Lucky jumping and rolling around in the freshly formed mud of the garden, and Barton sighing as he told me he would have to bathe the canine before he started trailing the mud all over the house.  
  
That was an hour ago. And both Clint nor Lucky had come back out into the garden again. I wheeled the wheelbarrow of wood into the porch, eyes skimming over the locked door of the barn with a small twitch of a smile before heading into the house in search of the archer and dog.  
  
 _"Damnit!"_    
  
The yell was a fairly obvious indicator that the archer was upstairs, and the small trail of dirty pawprints going up the cream stairs was also a giveaway as to where Lucky had got to. So, ascending the stairs and following the muffled muttering that grew steadily louder as I approached the upstairs bathroom door, reaching one hand out, I twisted the handle and pushed the door open in a slow reveal of the situation.  
  
I didn't know what was harder, suppressing the urge to either facepalm or laugh. Loudly.  
  
Lucky was sat in the bath, warm water up to his doggy ankles and fur soaked and soapy, mud splattered all over the porcelain bath and white tiled wall. And kneeling beside the canine, shower head in hand and clothes even more soaked and muddy than the panting dog itself, was the level 7 marksman of the Strategic Homeland something or other, a member of an organisation tasked with maintaining both national and global security, with the sulkiest looking face I was pretty sure I'd ever seen in my life.  
  
Both of us stayed silent, staring at each other in the bathroom that seemed to have more water flooding the floor than there was in the bath. And Barton was glaring at me in a way that told me if I laughed, an arrow would be aimed at me in seconds.  
  
"This is not a good day for me," Clint commented gently before returning to washing the canine's fur out of the shampoo that had been expertly massaged in. I felt a smile grace my lips and a laugh forced to keep quiet in my throat. "It's a tricky job to wash him, but I'm an expert at this."  
  
Lucky was suddenly shaking his fur out in the way dogs normally did.  
  
Then the agent was spitting at the floor, scrunching his face in disgust.  
"Oh, Lucky, you son of a..!"  
  
I couldn't help it. I laughed.  
  
I fell into an eruption of giggles, causing Clint to stop trying to spit out any doggy bath water Lucky had shaken out of his soaked fur before glaring at me in an attempt to make me stop. I covered her mouth, trying to force myself to stop giggling with minimal success. But as soon as he made eye contact with me, and huffed to try and blow the wet clumps of brunet hair from his usually kept hair out of his face, I completely lost it, the only thing holding me up now was the doorframe as I laughed against it, and soon heard the sound of Clint laughing along with me too at the ridiculousness of the circumstances. He continued the shower head and looking at the sudsy pup happily standing in the bath and waiting for the rinsing phase, having more mud over the bathroom than in the bath. He wiped the hair out of his eyes with a chuckle and looked at me, shaking his head and laughing again.  
  
We eventually came down from the high of the joke, taking deep breaths to calm myself and massaging my stomach as it started to hurt. Clint calmed himself down, resigning himself to sit on the floor with the shower head in hand, and Lucky barking at the both of us almost accusingly. I took a deep breath and stood up properly, wiping my eyes with a final giggle.  
  
"Do you want me to help?" I gestured to the floor covered in a puddle and the agent looking like he'd been through the human version of a carwash.  
  
"After Monday's events? Not a chance." He shook his head and I crossed my arms with an eye roll.  
  
"Oh, come on. You've already soaked yourself anyway." I pointed out and he hummed.  
  
"Oh yeah." He looked down at himself with a nod. Then he soaked me with the shower head anyway as I ran out of the door.  
  
 _"Asshole!"_


	16. Hearing you

**Week 3 - Saturday - 11:34am**  
Sometimes I really regretted living on the top floor of an apartment building. Mainly when I had bags full of shopping from the farmers market to carry up three sets of stairs. It was pretty much torture, even for a PE student. Oh well. Good for the glutes or whatever, I guess?  
  
I continued jogging up the stairs with two paper bags in my arms. I'd bought some good food and a few things for the apartment I was desperately running out of with the money Clint had given me the day before. He wasn't kidding about paying me on Friday, and even if it was just $50 or whatever, it was more money than I had been making before then, and for someone like me, that money went a long, long way.  
  
I reached the top of the stairs, too focused on not tripping over my converse to hear the sound of an apartment door opened, and hold in my yell of surprise when I was attacked by something around the waist. Moving the bags to see, I relaxed as I recognised the top of Macy's head buried into my stomach with her arms wrapped tightly around me.  
  
"Macy. You really need to stop doing that." I tried not to hit her head with my grocery bags. "Honestly, one of these days you're going to give me serious bruise-" The sound of a sniffle cut me off. I took a closer look at the form wrapped around me and realised her shoulders were shaking, and her grip on the back of my tank top was more desperate than friendly. "Macy?"  
  
The girl looked up at me, short fawn hair falling into watery eyes in damp clumps, cheeks pink and hot from crying.  
"M-mommy's not coming back." She hiccuped and swallowed, breathing hitched.  
  
My heart sank through the floor. I understood. And I hated that I understood.  
  
The apartment door across the way opened. And out stepped Mr Martinez, eyes similarly glassy with unshed tears and looking like he was about to throw up his breakfast onto the already dirty green carpet of the apartment hall. Macy held onto me tighter.  
  
"Macy, I'm so sorry." I put my bags down carefully before wrapping both arms around her tightly. Darren watched us both from the sides, swallowing, and not knowing what he could say. By the strength of her hold, Macy was not going to be letting go any time soon, sniffling into my shirt. "Come here." I walked to lean against the top railing of the stairs, sitting down and pulling Macy into my lap. She instantly curled up, resting her head on my shoulder and crying her eyes out. I rubbed her back, holding her close. Darren approached us gently before sitting beside me, watching the two of us as I muttered sweet nothings to the child. "You're alright, Mace," I promised her, running a gentle hand through her hair, feeling her strained breathing against me. "You're alright."  
  
  
I don't know how long we were sat there for, or how long it took Macy to calm down enough to stop crying and her grip to grow soft. There were clear wrinkles in my shirt from her fists, and stains on my shoulders from her tears. I couldn't bring myself to give a fuck. I hadn't realised exactly when she fell asleep in my arms, or even when my own eyes had slipped shut.  
  
"Evelyn?"   
  
It was the whisper of her father that made me open my eyes.  
  
"Hm?" I rubbed my face with one hand before looking at the weight in my lap, feeling her slow breathing against my chest and seeing her red eyes had closed. "She's asleep." I turned my volume to a whisper, glancing back at Darren who looked to have calmed down a lot from his own state too. His eyes flicked to the door, then to Macy. "Do you want me to help?" I asked.  
  
"Please." Darren nodded. The two of us stood up, me lifting Mace in my arms as Darren opened the apartment door and helped me take her inside. I had been in the apartment a number of times before to babysit Macy for him, so I already knew my way around. Only a few things had changed since the last time I was in here, mainly the positions of furniture or things in the kitchen. We walked through the apartment that mirrored the layout of my own to the second bedroom where Macy's bed was. "Put her down in bed." I moved Macy out of my arms with a little effort, helping her slide under the flower print covers. "Here." I turned to see Mr Martinez holding out a teddy bear to me, which I quickly slid into Macy's arms. Her arms circled around it as she turned onto her side, snuggling under the covers. I took a few steps away before the two of us backed out of her room and tenderly closed the door behind us with the softest click I could manage. We both breathed out a sigh of relief.  
  
"Thank you." Darren looked exhausted. Not tired. Exhausted.  
  
"I know how hard this has to be for the both of you. I'm sorry."  
  
"Don't apologise. There's no point." He shook his head, resting against a kitchen counter and putting his head in his hands.  
  
"No. I'm sorry that I can't do more to help." I corrected, stepping closer but not reaching out to him.  
  
"You've done more than enough for the both of us." He told me, sighing and tugging at his hair with both hands. Fuck it. I took a step closer, wrapping my arms around him in a hug and pulling him close. I knew how much he would need it, because I remembered how much I needed it when caught in the same situation. He froze for a second, but after a moment when he realised what I was doing, I felt his arms wrap back around me and hold me close to him. He was only a few inches taller than me, me being tall for most girls, so I didn't have to lean up. He held me, breathing calmly, and I tried to swallow down the memories that threatened to bubble up. They didn't need that right now. "Thank you. Truly. Thank you." His voice was shaking, just slightly, but because I was listening for it, I heard it.  
  
"Its the least I can do," I replied lightly, taking a breath in and out. "It's going to be okay."  
  
"No, it's not," Darren mumbled into the hug.  
  
"Yes, it is. Not today, and not tomorrow, but it will be okay." I hugged him a little tighter, feeling him tighten his embrace along with me. "Listen to someone who knows." I swallowed, forcing out memories with a shake of my head and holding onto him. "It's going to be okay."  
  
  
 **Monday - Week 4**  
I needed to punch something.  
  
Today was shit. The last few days had been shit. Why was now a good time for the universe to get things to go to shit?  
  
Saturday with Macy and Darren, Sunday with nightmares and mild panic attacks, and today with a fucking college interview that I was basically dismissed from almost as soon as I walked through the door. I don't even know why I bothered showing up when it was clear from the way the interviewer held and read through my application that they hated me. They didn't want me in that college. They didn't want a problem kid in their college. Why did I bother to get my hopes up? Why did I even bother to try getting in there with lack of references and a shitty resume? No point at all. They should have just started with 'I'm sorry, but we don't think this college is the college that can help you reach your full potential in the courses you're asking for. And we have a very long waiting list for places in these classes, even for someone with grades as high as yours. We will keep your application on file, but I wouldn't rely on a call from us in the future'.  
  
So, yeah. I needed to punch something.  
  
I shouldn't have walked back to Clint's from that interview. I should have just gone home instead. I took the morning off until lunch and then I was expected back at the barn. It was nearing lunchtime now, and I was stalking down the familiar street towards the archers. Down the driveway and over the fence gate, I saw Lucky begin to bark as he saw me before going back to chasing his tail and messing with a rubber bone. My fist tightened, eyes closing as I tried to take a few breaths to calm down. I still felt the need to hit something.  
  
"Evelyn?" Clint's voice made me open my eyes. He was half smiling but studying my face that even I knew looked pissed off to hell. I needed to hit something. But not someone.  
  
So, I punched the wooden porch door with a loud crack instead.  
  
 _"Evelyn!"_  
  
  
My hand throbbed as the washcloth gently ran over my inflamed knuckles. Clint's hands themselves were fairly rough and calloused, unsurprising if he used that bow of his on a regular basis, but the strength of his hands was controlled and soft as he healed it up.  
"You didn't break it. Somehow." He mithered, putting the cloth down and picking up the ice pack he retrieved from the freezer, causing me to hiss as he placed it over my hand, regardless of the care he took. "It's going to be pretty bruised up for a few days, though." He nodded, sitting back in his chair and looking at me as I adjusted the pack on my hand, silently. Just as I had been for the last ten minutes since he took me to the kitchen from outside. "So, want to tell me what that was all about?"  
  
"Not really," I responded dryly.  
  
"You nearly punched a hole through my porch door and you don't want to tell me why?" He tilted his head. I set my jaw, trying to ignore the throbbing in my right hand.  
  
"I was stressed."  
  
"Stressed." He echoed, leaning further back and muttering to himself. "She was 'stressed'."  
  
"Can we not have this conversation right now?" I bit back and his head snapped back to me. He considered me for a few moments.  
  
"Your interview didn't go well, did it?" I scoffed.  
  
"Understatement of the century." I looked away.  
  
"There'll always be another place."  
  
"Clint." I looked back at him, and he watched me. "As a guy that also lives in this shitty town, can you honestly say there are many good colleges around here to go to?" I was surprised he was living in an area like this. Or maybe that was the perfect cover for a spy like himself. I didn't know much about spies except what I learned from movies which I was sure were pretty inaccurate.  
  
"You don't have to stay around here. You can move around."  
  
"I'm not in the type of living situation to be able to do that." I shook my head.  
  
"Why not?"  
  
"What about 'can we not have this conversation right now' passed over your head?" I snapped quickly. He blinked at me, looking a bit taken aback.  I realised how I was acting and mentally slapped myself. "Sorry," I mumbled, looking down at my worn converse against the laminated kitchen floor. The material was starting to come apart from the sole.  
  
"It's fine. I get it." Barton responded calmly, like a rational adult, which made me feel even more like a child. Which is exactly what I'd acted like since showing up from the interview. Why did I hit the door again? I probably splintered it. Actually, speaking of...  
  
"Do I have to pay you back for the door, again?" I looked back up at him, biting inside my lip. The archer looked at me, mouth scrunching and head tilting as if he was trying to decide whether I was being serious or not.  
  
"I swear, I'm just going take that door off its frame permanently." Barton started chuckling in the middle of his sentence. "Maybe put up a foam block or hell, a plastic screen. That's what I'll do. A plastic screen. At least if you rip that down, it's much easier to replace." Clint waved his arms as he spoke. I started giggling at his dramatic antics before he set his hands back on his knees again, face going serious. "But if you need to hit something like that again, you can use the barn." He told me, gesturing through the living room towards the locked door. "If it stops you from breaking a bone, whether it be yours or someone else's, just use it. There are punch bags and gloves to stop things like this happening." He leaned forward and tapped the ice pack, not my throbbing hand, thankfully. "If you need it, use it. I'm sure I can trust you to keep away from sharp objects and not accidentally shoot yourself, etcetera, etcetera."  
  
"Don't trust me too much. Knowing me, you'll come into the barn to see me tied up in a skipping rope with no idea how I got there in the first place because I was supposed to be using the climbing frame." I chuckled back and he smiled softly.  
  
"A quick point to add, if you touch any equipment in there, can you not touch the backpack again? You accidentally -or at least I assume accidentally- messed up my hearing aids." He gestured to his ears. That was surprising.  
  
"That's what those things were?" I didn't realise he had hearing aids in, even looking for them I couldn't see if he had them in right now or not. "You're hearing impaired?" I raised an eyebrow.  
  
"Glad you didn't just say 'deaf' as everyone else does. And yes. I'm partially deaf." He held up his finger and thumb a short distance away. "About 80%, actually."  
  
"Seriously?" I leaned forward. He nodded gently and shrugged a little as if it was common knowledge or as if I'd actually had any idea up to now. Who would have known an international spy would have needed something like hearing aids? I huffed, leaning my head on my uninjured hand on the table and grinning at him. "Man, you really  _are_ old."  
  
"Evelyn, I swear to fuck..."


	17. Spider

**Clint's POV - Tuesday - Week 4**  
If it was possible for a dog to look smug, Lucky looked way too smug for his own good. I wasn't sure whether it was down to him having done something and I hadn't yet discovered it such as ripping up a pillow and hiding the evidence, or if he was just happy after I'd talked to Nat to confirm she was visiting later today. She had just completed a mission in a foreign country I couldn't remember the name of and had called ahead to tell me she was visiting. Not asking to visit, oh no, that's not Natasha Romanoff. She  _was_ visiting. And Lucky looked at me with a look I could only describe otherwise from smug as knowing.  
  
I put the phone down on the kitchen island, taking a sip from my water bottle and making a mental note to take out the ice from the freezer to cool a water pitcher for him and Evelyn, and Natasha later on that day. Speaking of the teen, I hadn't heard her come in, and it was nearly ten past ten. Picking up my phone and walking around the house, I concluded after around ten minutes of searching and calling her name that she definitely wasn't here. Not outside, not upstairs, not even in the barn. And it wasn't a day off. That wouldn't be too off if she hadn't shown up a few minutes early every day she was here for the last three weeks. Consistently.  
  
It was at this point I realised I didn't have her phone number, and she didn't have mine. There was probably a health and safety code of some sort I was breaking for that. I made a note to bring that up when she did turn up if she did.  
  
It took me going out and starting to chop the wood on the block outside before Lucky barked, me looking up to catch a glimpse of the teen entering the house without even bothering to call my name as she would normally if she couldn't see me. Leaving the axe in the chopping block and heading up to the house, I walked in to see her heading to the kitchen.  
  
"Morning," I called after her. She seemed to tense for a second before turning around to face me, a tired smile on her face. I furrowed my brow. "Are you okay?"  
  
"Yeah, yeah." Her eyes were unfocused, like as if she'd been smoking. But she didn't smell of anything, so smokes were quickly ruled out. "I just... um... overslept." Straight off the bat, I knew that was a lie. She didn't look like she'd gotten any sleep at all, leaving the idea of having overslept well out of the field of possibility. But looking at her and how her eyes were practically begging me to leave the conversation alone, I decided it might be for the best. She'd tell me if she wanted.  
  
"That's fine." I nodded at her, and the tension in her body seemed to dissolve ever so slightly. But that dazed look in her eyes was still there. "There's water and things in the kitchen. I bought ice-cream fresh."  
  
"Do you mind if I use the barn today?" She countered with softly. I felt a smile twitch at my lips.  
  
"Sure. Open house." I gestured in the direction of the barn. "Be careful with that hand though." I nodded to the hand she had freshly bandaged up, rubbing it almost subconsciously with her free hand before pulling it away at the mention. She nodded gently, turning away to head outside, presumably to the chopping block to continue with the firewood there was, to be honest, no point in cutting up in these summer months. "I should also probably warn you though-" She glanced over her shoulder, pausing in step. "-my friend Natasha is coming over later. She'll probably be here before you leave."  
  
"Okay." Her voice was quiet as she headed outside. I saw the slight shift in her walk, she looked like something was in her shoe, specifically the left. But I left the idea alone, heading into the kitchen to catch up on work on my laptop before making lunch. She hadn't come back inside for the rest of the morning, though I passed a full wheelbarrow of firewood on the way outside into the garden and the boiling heat of the summer. Heading straight for the closed-off garden, I peeked around the bushes to see Evelyn staring at her crossword book with a pencil in one hand.  
  
"Food's out." I didn't say it loudly, but she still jumped all the same before turning and packing her things silently and following me back into the house. I was beginning to suspect something was really wrong. But I still didn't want to press it, and Evelyn looked like she would put up a fight if I tried.  
  
Lunch was a silent affair, and the same concerning amount of food was left on her plate by the end before she cleaned the dishes, refilled Lucky's bowl, and disappeared outside again without a word with that same limp from earlier. I sighed, sitting down and rolling the kinks in my neck before working back on my laptop until around three when my phone vibrated, and a small spider emoji came up onscreen from Natasha. I smiled, heading outside to see the little spider walking down the drive in her regular civilian clothes and a smile on red painted lips.  
  
"Hey, Arrow Guy." She reached the gate and I opened it with a shake of my head so she could walk in.  
  
"Little Spider." She walked in, immediately jumped on by Lucky barking happily and having a good go at trying to lick her face. I looked up to the path to the house see the teenager coming towards us with her backpack.  
  
"Evelyn, come meet Natasha," I called to her.  
  
"Clint, I have to go."   
  
"But what about-"  
  
"Sorry. I just really have to go. I'll come in early on Thursday or whatever but I gotta go." Evie blurted and brushed past me quickly. "Nice to meet you, Natasha." She threw over her shoulder before jumping the fence gate and disappearing.  
  
"Nice to meet you too?" Natasha raised an eyebrow at the empty space behind the gate before turning to me. "That was brief. Think I scared her off?"  
  
"She's been acting off since this morning. A person who silently prides herself on being early for things shows up late and it's not because she overslept. She was limping a little, too."  
  
"Maybe she fell down the stairs and was embarrassed?" Nat suggested. I rolled my eyes and started heading inside to the kitchen, my mind tracking on coffee. "I assume you told her everything?" She followed quickly behind.  
  
"Not everything. I did mention to her some things I needed to leave out for safety and legal purposes but other than that, she got the basic gist." Reaching the kitchen, I flicked the kettle on and pulled out the instant stuff. Nat sat on the table. Not on a chair. On the table. Because Natasha. "I know you think I'm an idiot."  
  
"Not for this, but otherwise yeah." She responded, grinning. I rolled my eyes, pulling a set of mugs. "Look, she caught you out. I get that meant you needed to make a compromise or risk practically traumatising a kid for life as well as getting temporarily arrested and then your ass kicked by Fury and Coulson."  
  
"Yes, I'm well aware you could have handled it better." Picking up the boiled kettle, I made the two coffees.  
  
"I didn't say that."  
  
"Didn't have to."  
  
"Clint. Stop being a grump." Nat huffed and I silently put the kettle down, sliding her coffee across the island counter, She leaned forward on the table, grabbing it. "I don't judge you for telling her about SHIELD. End of story. I do however judge you for nearly killing her."  
  
"It was an accident! I'm not used to having other people in the house. And I was attaching a new string to the bow. It was basic reflexes."  
  
"Uh huh." She sipped her coffee noncommittally. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes for the third time in ten minutes. "Honestly, I leave you alone with a kid for a few days and look at what you nearly did. I thought you were good with kids." I groaned, rubbing my face with one hand and shaking my head.  
  
"Why did I ever listen to you about this idea?"  
  
"Because I'm your best friend?" The Spider wasn't wrong. Annoyingly. "And if we're being honest, I didn't actually think you'd go for it."  
  
My head snapped up. "What?"  
  
"I suggested it as a joke. I didn't expect you to take it seriously." She shrugged, mug resting in her hands on her legs. "But it did end up being quite entertaining on my end, old man."  
  
"Don't you start." I pointed and scowled. Nat just chuckled behind her mug. I grumbled, leaning back on the counter and taking a drink from my own cup. "She's a sweet kid. Clever. It makes me suspicious."  
  
"Suspicious?" The spider raised a red eyebrow.  
  
"Her high-school Headmaster and teachers. When I met him, I thought he was being responsible by telling me about Evelyn, and her apparent 'control' and 'violent' issues. Basically telling me she was everything short of the phrase 'problem child'. Other teachers that he introduced me too had the same opinion to share of her." I tapped my fingers against the mug, silently. "But the longer I've known her, the more I'm starting to see that she's not exactly as she got described to me. Sure, she may have some minor impulse control issues but she hasn't made herself a problem for me for the whole summer, not violent towards me even though I know I've provoked her a few times, and she's turned into Lucky's new best friend. Maybe its because this isn't the same atmosphere as her school or something." I paused halfway to a sip, Natasha's expression catching me. "What? What's the smirk for?"  
  
"You're acting like a concerned parent, Hawkeye." She grinned widely.  
  
"Am not."  
  
"Are too."  
  
"Am not."  
  
"You are too, and you know it." Nat hopped off the table. I just diverted my gaze to something else, mumbling an argument back which she ignored, nudging me. "It's nice, It's nice that you have friends outside me and Pizza Dog." Speak of the canine, he jogged into the kitchen, happily wagging his tail and panting from the heat.  
  
"I have other friends," I replied. She raised an eyebrow. "Don't give me that look." Natasha just hummed, leaning down to where Lucky started nuzzling her leg. "Whatever." I went back to my coffee. It was seriously awful. But there weren't any good coffee shops around this area worth driving or walking out to, so, instant stuff it was.  
  
Natasha chuckled. "Your dad's being grumpy." She told Lucky, who barked as if he was agreeing. I gave him a glare. Traitor.


	18. Glitter

**Evelyn's POV - An hour later**  
Slipping through the path gate beside the car entrance, I closed the lock behind me and walked down the pathway towards the apartment building, taking out my key to open the door. I paused, halfway to the lock, considering the text in my phone and looking up towards my room on the top floor, and took a second to consider my surroundings instead. There were no signs of danger, but something was moving behind a bush in the garden section of the carpark, and it seemed suspicious enough to check it out.  
  
Making my way over the carpark and into the small, closed off, wooded area of the area, I carefully stepped over the fallen branches and twigs to peek around the corner of the bush, and see a huddled up figure in a school uniform, skirt and blazer and all, and sniffing with shaking shoulders and her head on pulled up knees.  
  
That's how I found Macy outside, crying about finding a picture of her mother in her father's drawer. And after a bit of calming down, I managed to get her back inside, fear from before long forgotten, and up to the top floor of the building, heading inside her apartment and thankful it was unlocked.  
  
Mr Martinez glanced up from his newspaper with a smile, and dropped it quickly when he noticed us.  
"I found her outside in the trees. She's had a bit of a rough afternoon." I managed to get Macy to let me go where I'd been holding her up and let stand up herself.  
  
Darren knelt down in front of her, holding her upper arms and scanning her. "Are you hurt at all?"  
  
"No, I'm okay." She shook her head, quietly.  
  
"She found a picture of her mom in your drawer," I told him. He glanced up, eyes glossing over in understanding, before looking at his daughter again.  
  
"I'm sorry, sweetheart." He cupped her cheek softly.  
  
"It's okay. I know you miss mommy too." The child responded. He hugged her close, holding her to his chest and taking a deep breath before letting her go.  
  
"Do you want to maybe pick out a film and we can watch it tonight?"  
  
"But it's not movie night."  
  
"I think we can make an exception just this once." He smiled a little and patted her back to send her towards the TV set. "Go on." She giggled and rushed to pick out a movie, her skirt and shoes smeared slightly in mud but went unnoticed. Darren stood up with a sigh, looking at me and walking into the kitchen area. "Thank you."  
  
"She thinks you're angry at her. And anything she has tried to do to cheer you up hasn't worked - not even her cupcakes or watching superhero movies together. You sound like you've been acting like a mopey bastard."  
  
"Hey, easy on the swears." He nodded his head back at Macy in indication. I nodded and apologised. "And I suppose I have been acting like that. It's not been easy lately." He pulled down two bowls from the overhead cupboard.  
  
"I know. But just be careful. Kids take after their parents a lot at such a young age." I lowered my volume just in case Macy was an eavesdropper, at her age it wouldn't surprise me. Mr Martinez hummed, taking the trifle out of the fridge and started spooning some into the bowls. "And I already told you, if you need to talk to someone, I'm literally just across the hall. And you have my number." I nodded to the door. He slowed his hand movements with the trifle and bowl before dropping the spoon into one and looking at me with tired eyes.  
  
"Thanks again."  
  
"It's fine." I shook my head. He picked up the spoon again and finished spooning away at the trifle to put it back. "Do you think those guys have gone yet? I didn't see them outside."  
  
"I don't know. All I know is I recognised them from the park and they were hanging around when Macy and I got home from school." Mr Martinez had my phone number for emergencies. And when at Clint's, I'd received a text about the group of kids from school hanging around the apartments, and more importantly, outside my own apartment door. And knowing what happened last time they were hanging around here, I knew that could not have been a good sign or an olive branch offer from them.  
  
"I think its probably safe now. Thanks for texting me." I thanked him, glancing at Macy who had happily picked out another superhero movie for the two of them to watch. "I'm gonna go back to mine. I'm kinda tired."  
  
"Have a nice afternoon, Evelyn. And if you need it, you know we're just across the hall, too." Darren nodded and I waved, waving bye to Macy before heading out and over to my own apartment.   
  
There was no note on my apartment door, so that was a promising start. And the door was still locked, so I was fairly certain I hadn't been broken into. But when I opened the door, I almost slipped on the piece of paper lying by my feet that had been somehow slid under the small gap between the door to the floor.  
  
Closing and locking my door behind me, I picked up the note, unfolding the once folded paper, and letting a small bomb of shitty glitter fall out and onto the laminate flooring, and read the note filled with classic insults and dick doodles that felt just like a flashback to the high-school classroom, only this had been folded up and with a glitter element, rather than just a scrunched up paper ball.  
  
I kinda had to give credit for the sparkly mess now covering the floor and my converse. But I knew it would be a bitch to clear up. But, oh well. It beat having nightmares that kept me up all night like this morning and walking into multiple things in my apartment during my dizzy and running-late daze.  
  
  
 **3rd Person POV - Thursday**  
Wednesday passed in a blur.  
  
Natasha had stayed the night at Clint's house. The two had had a bit of fun talking and sparring in the barn, as Natasha gave a few 'helpful' pieces of advice to Clint on how to better handle Evelyn or if she ever asked Clint to help her in the barn in her workout and what the best kind of exercises for someone who had experience in PE but not in Level 7 Agent training had.  
  
She basically warned -more like threatened- him to go easy on her. As if he wouldn't. He wasn't a  _complete_ asshole, after all.  
  
And then Natasha left, leaving Clint to chill and run a few errands, as well as fuss a little more over what had Evelyn so jumpy that morning and before she left early. But he decided to leave it alone before Thursday morning came, and Evelyn showed up right on time and with her usual 'cheerful' attitude.  
  
He'd been outside working on the weeds in the garden when she hopped over the gate and called his name. He'd smiled and waved as she joined him, taking a second glance at her shoes quickly.  
"Is that glitter on your converse?"  
  
"It's not important." She brushed it off before getting to work on chopping wood and watering the garden.  
  
  
After lunch, Evelyn had asked to use the barn, and Clint acquiesced. He joined her a little while after, finding her with hands wrapped up in the bandages that had been left out, and giving the already strung punching bag a run for its money. The agent leaned on the doorframe, watching the girl beat the bag for all it was worth. She didn't have exactly the right technique, not pulling back straight after a strike and letting her hands take a lot of the blow, and her footing was causing her to be slightly off balance. But otherwise, she was doing pretty good.  
  
Clint verbalised so, making her jump a foot in the air that she would never admit to anyone, and offered to show her the other things in the barn like the skipping ropes and climbing set, which she happily accepted the tour of.  
  
A little while later, the two paused in the middle of their separate workouts, Clint on the floor doing push-ups and Evie back on the punching bag, when a ringing tone echoed through the barn. Evelyn recognised it as her phone, and took a time-out from her workout and walked to the haybales where she'd left her backpack to pull it out and answer.  
  
It was a number she didn't recognise. She took a certain amount of caution before sliding her thumb on the screen to answer.  
"Hello?" Clint started unwrapping his hands as she answered. "Yes, it is." She confirmed, eyes narrowing a little. The agent threw the wraps to the side and picked up his water bottle. " _What_?" Clint snapped his head to her as she raised her volume. Evelyn ran her hand through her hair, tugging at the strands and seemed to be growing increasingly stressed the longer she stayed quiet. "Shit, when?" She began pacing. Clint watched warily. "Is she okay? Well, I mean obviously you wouldn't be calling if she was but..." The silence was questioning, and Clint couldn't tell who or what was happening, could barely hear if the voice on the other end was male or female. "Can I come now?" The girl asked, hand tugging her hair again. She nodded as she listened along to the person. "Thank you for telling me." She ended the call and dropped her hand to the side, looking slightly dazed.  
  
"What's the matter, Evelyn?"  
  
She wet her lips. "That was Ashforn City Hospital." Green eyes met blue. Clint blinked. "My grandmother was just taken in in an ambulance." The teenager explained quickly. The sudden change in tone made sense now.  
  
"What?"  
  
"I- I need to go." She backed off towards the barn door, stumbling slightly at the frame before she ran out and Clint rushed straight after her.  
  
"How are you gonna get there?"  
  
"I'll run." She shrugged, heading out straight past Lucky and towards the garden gate.  
  
"Let me drive you, its faster. And I know the fastest route." Clint called after her. Evelyn stopped in her tracks, taking a few seconds to consider before spinning around to him.  
  
"Please, Clint." She nodded. Clint nodded and grabbed his keys from inside, jogging with her to the car, thankful for her having fixed it before now, unlocked the doors.  
  
"Jump in."


	19. Hospital

**30 minutes later**  
Pulling up into the parking area of the hospital, Evelyn rushed out of the car before Clint could get a word out, heading inside and up to the front desk with, thankfully, no line.  
  
"Excuse me?" She caught the receptionists attention, turning away from her computer to smile politely at the teen. "I was called in for my grandmother as she was just admitted here. Irene Summers?"  
  
"Evelyn Summers?" The call of her name from across the room made the two loom towards a nurse holding a clipboard. Evie nodded. "Come with me. Your grandmother is just up here." Clint jogged in behind her in time to catch Evie as she followed the nurse.  
  
"How is she?"  
  
"She's perfectly fine. It was nothing too serious." The nurse scanned her clipboard.   
  
Evie stopped in the middle of the hall. "Nothing too serious? We're in a  _hospital!"_  
  
"Evelyn, easy," Clint said in a tone to remind her both to calm down and that they were in a public space. Evie considered it and nodded gently. The nurse began walking again.  
  
"Your grandfather called us. Your grandmother, Irene, was choking and we brought her in by an ambulance. Her oesophagus had become inflamed and constricted, causing her to choke. We managed to get here and calm the inflammation down so that her pathway opened up and she could breathe properly again." They came up to a door where the nurse stopped.  
  
"Can I see her?"  
  
"Yes, just through here." Evie and Clint began to head inside before Clint was stopped. "I'm sorry, but who are you? Only family are allowed in right now."   
  
"He's..."   
  
Clint stuck out his hand to shake. "Her Uncle. Micheal Summers." Evie blinked, looking at him accusingly.  
  
The lady didn't seem to notice. "Nice to meet you, Mr Summers." The nurse shook his hand softly before turning to Evelyn. "We're not sure what caused the inflammation, although we believe it was just her immune system responding to a type of hayfever. We're going to keep her overnight just to be sure, but she should be perfectly fine with some prescribed medication to make sure this doesn't happen again. Your grandfather did mention she is very much interested in gardening, so the medication and keeping her inside would be recommended." The nurse then proceeded to open the door and lead the two inside behind her.  
  
The walls of the room were plain white and the smell of bleach filled the air. Two figures sat already occupying the room, one on a painfully uncomfortable looking chair and holding the hand of the second lying in a bed with a light blue sheet draped over her legs, propped up on pillows and an angled bed.  
  
"Evelyn." The silver-haired woman beckoned the teenager over with a kind smile.  
  
"Grandma." Evelyn did a little less than race to the side of her bed that wasn't occupied by her grandfather, instantly reaching to take her free hand into her own and relaxing as her warmer hands met the colder one.  
  
"I'll leave you alone for a moment." The nurse nodded before closing the door behind her, leaving the four together as Evelyn fussed over her grandmother.  
  
"Thank you for coming, Evie dear. I hope I didn't frighten you too much." Irene smiled gently before turning her attention to the agent standing slightly awkwardly by the door, looking like he was trying hard to mask his discomfort. "Who's this?" She directed at Clint. Evie blinked, trying to think up something that sounded better than 'my boss' or 'this super secret spy dude that pretended to be a police officer but I promise is not technically a serial murderer'.  
  
"A friend from work." Evie finally came up with.  
  
Barton cleared his throat, walking over to the three. "Clint Barton. Nice to meet you, Mr and Mrs Summers." He accepted both hands that were extended to him, along with two wary looks from either grandparent. He couldn't blame the suspicion. He was nearing his early forties after all.  
  
"You scared me." Evie brought them back on topic. "I nearly had a panic attack."  
  
"She scared  _you_? Imagine my experience." Raymond scoffed with a light chuckle at the teen. Although he seemed to be covering the situation with humour, he looked pretty fried from the day he'd spent fretting over his wife.  
  
"No, no. I'm not going just yet. Too much to do and see. My petunias still need nursing back after those crowds tore up my garden." She patted Evie's hand holding hers. Evelyn didn't look like she enjoyed her answer. Her grandmother smiled kindly. "I'm fine, Evelyn. I promise. It was just a spout of hayfever in my old age. It really doesn't surprise me and it shouldn't surprise you after knowing my gardening habits."  
  
"Everything's just been really crappy lately." Evie pulled up one of those uncomfortable plastic chairs to sit beside her, easing down and feeling a weight in her chest. "When I got that call I thought my world was going to come crashing down in seconds." The teen swallowed, eyes falling to the baby blue sheet covering the bed. It didn't look all that warm. And the scent of bleach in here was too strong, almost eye burning. So distracting that she didn't notice Clint slipping out of the room in silence.  
  
"You're a very strong girl, Evelyn. I know you'll be fine." Irene smiled gently before taking either one of her family's hands in her own. "We're a family. We've always stuck together. And always will. And this is something we can get through. I just need to make sure I stay inside and take my pills and try not to box your grandfather's ears in."  
  
"What?" Her grandfather tilted his head the way when he didn't hear something.  
  
Evie laughed tiredly, sniffing and forcing away tears. Fuck. It had been an emotional week for everyone.  
  
"You'll be fine, dear." Her grandmother patted her head gently as she used to when Evie was younger. It was a comforting gesture all the same.  
  
"So will you. I get my strength from you, after all." Evie grinned wider.  
  
"Oh, flattery will get you everywhere." Irene chuckled gently, readjusting her sitting position slightly with her pillows to sit up more comfortably. "I'll be back home tomorrow, anyway, if everything goes well. A few prescription pills and perhaps leaving the flowers to fend for themselves for a while and I'll be back to normal in no time." She informed them.  
  
The teen nodded. "Good. Do you want me to come and check you're okay?"  
  
"Don't you worry about me, dear. I have this old dog with me, after all." She smiled at her husband.  
  
"Yes, you do." Her grandfather chipped in. "In fact, I'm making your favourite, lemon meringue pie, as soon as we get home."  
  
"Aw. Now I really want to come and check on you both tomorrow." Evie pouted, making the grandparents chuckle at their young girl. Evie shook her head with a small sigh before looking back to them. "Love you both." She leaned her head on her grandma's shoulder.  
  
"Love you also, Evie dear."  
  
  
Outside the hospital room, Clint scrolled through messages on his phone. Nat was asking for updates, and Clint debated on whether telling her about this would be an invasion of privacy or not. But at least everyone was okay. Evelyn was pretty shaken up in the drive over to the hospital, not speaking a word but stiffer than a board as she sat in the passenger seat, eyes flicking from the road to any set of stoplights they passed, practically daring them to turn red.  
  
He glanced up, switching the screen off halfway through his sentence to see Evie quietly shutting the door behind her. "Hey. You alright?"  
  
"Yeah..." She nodded softly, but he recognised that look in her eyes. He would have said if she didn't say first "No, actually. Am I okay?" She tilted her head, voice losing most emotion. Clint squinted at her form as she covered her arms over herself.  
  
"You're shaking." He noticed as she leaned on the wall beside the door, hands gripping her upper arms where they were folded.  
  
"I'm fi... not I'm not." She shook her head, swallowing. Clint looked up and down the practically barren corridor, running a hand through his hair as he tried to think of something to help.  
  
"Do you, uh, want a hug or something?" He asked, finally. Evie looked up at him, forest green eyes unsure. But eventually, she nodded. "Come here." He opened her arms. She took a stumbling step forward. Then another, slowly approaching as if he would laugh in her face and tell her to grow up. But he didn't. And as soon as she was close enough she wrapped herself around him, squeezing hard.  
  
Clint could feel her shaking against him as if she was freezing. And it wasn't long before he heard the telltale sounds of a sniff, hands tightening in his shirt and her face buried in his shoulder. His arms enveloped her warmly, trying to be as comforting as possible while trying to keep their respective boundaries. But it didn't seem like today was a day where boundaries stood between them. His hand rubbed gentle circles on her back, feeling her silently cry on his shoulder. Other than the first initial sniff of her crying, she wasn't snivelling or sobbing. Instead, just shaking and letting her emotions flow over.  
  
It wasn't until five or so minutes later until Evelyn stopped shaking, and her breathing began to even out. Clint angled his face to try and look at her expression hidden in his shirt.  
  
"All okay now?" His voice was as soft as he could make it.  
  
A small pause.  
  
Evie raised her head, slightly puffy eyes squinting accusingly. "How did you know I had an uncle called 'Micheal'?"  
  
It took Clint a second to recall where he had said such a thing before nodding gently. "I may have done a bit of background research on you before finding you at your school," Clint answered, seeing no point in lying considering the past few days.  
  
Evie clicked her tongue. "You know, there used to be a time I would find that disturbing."


	20. Number

**Friday afternoon - week 4 - 3** **:34pm**  
Clint had given Evie the day off. Seemed only fair considering the day before. The kid needed to gather her bearings, and Clint knew she would be worried sick about her grandmother regardless of the fact the doctors promised she was perfectly fine.  
  
Clint had felt her shaking in his arms. She needed the extra weekend day.  
  
After her moment outside the hospital door, and she was certain her grandmother was safe in the hands of the doctors and nurses, Evelyn allowed herself to be driven home. Not back to Clint's but right the way back to the apartment. She had taken her backpack with her anyway, and left nothing at Clint's, so right back to her apartment they went. Clint had parked outside the gates since Evie had no key to open the car gates as she didn't drive and so there was no point in asking for one when moving in, she said a final thanks and goodbye before disappearing into the building and back up to her own floor as Barton drove home. Only when he got home did he realise she'd left something in his car.  
  
Which led to now, on the top floor of the apartment building after someone buzzed him in, knocking on Evelyn's apartment door.  
  
He was about to give up and turn around, but the neighbour beat him to it, hearing the door open and the teacher's assistant step out and catch his eye.  
  
A moment of silence passed between the two men.  
  
"Hey." Clint started, looking at the teaching assistant up and down. He looked like he'd just gotten home from the school.  
  
"Hey." Mr Martinez responded, seeming to be doing the exact same to Clint, looking him up and down almost suspiciously.  
  
"Is Miss Summers home?" Clint got back on topic, and since Evelyn had never mentioned living with anyone, he now surmised the door he'd knocked on was hers, and this was a neighbour.  
  
Darren tilted his head, leaning on his door. "Depends who's asking."  
  
"I'm Clint. I'm her..." Clint wondered what the right word would be in this situation. This neighbour looked like he was weighing Clint up for a fight. "...friend." He finally decided on.  
  
"And what do you want with Miss Summers?"  
  
"She left her phone yesterday. I assumed she would want it back so I came to deliver it. I would have called ahead of time but..." Clint pulled out and waved the phone a little in indication. She still had the same lock screen background as she did when he found her phone the first time; a girl with mousey brunette hair and forest green eyes overlaid with a  _'NERD'_  filter of a light pink wash and cartoon glasses.   
  
"Well, she's out right now. So, you could leave the phone and a message for her if you wanted rather than waiting." Mr Martinez responded, edging a little further out of his apartment but not letting go of the door.  
  
"I don't mind waiting." Clint shrugged back, standing his ground.  
  
The teaching assistant sucked the inside of his cheek. "Who are you really?"  
  
"Is it so hard to believe Miss Summers has a friend?" Barton raised an eyebrow. Darren's expression didn't change. "I'm her boss, Clint Barton. Miss Summers is being paid to work at my farm for the summer. Yesterday she had an emergency with her grandmother in hospital and I drove her there. She left her phone in my car, hence why I have it. A nice neighbour downstairs said she lived on this floor so I knocked on this apartment first, and would have knocked on yours next if you didn't come out and see me first." Clint explained clearly, starting to grow slightly agitated. The kid had had a stressful enough day yesterday. And he just wanted to give her the phone back.  
  
"Is her grandmother okay?" Darren's volume dropped, looking concerned rather than suspicious.  
  
"Perfectly. Something to do with hayfever. She should be out by today with some medication."  
  
Mr Martinez nodded slowly, crossing her arms and leaning on the door. "Don't hurt her." He told him.  
  
Clint blinked, startled. "What?" He furrowed his brow. "Why the hell would I hurt her?"  
  
"Just don't, okay? Evelyn doesn't have a good track record with people claiming to be her friends." He narrowed his eyes.  
  
"I wouldn't." Clint insisted. "She's a good kid. Hurting her would be the last thing on my mind." The agent crossed his arms, phone still gripped in one hand. Darren seemed to believe him. Clint paused, brow furrowing as the words registered. "And what do you mean she doesn't have a good track record of-"  
  
"Clint?" The female voice made the two snap to attention and notice the female standing near the top of the stairs watching them. "What are you doing here?" She herself was holding two paper bags in her arms, filled with groceries from what Clint recognised was the farmer's market that he suddenly realised he had forgotten to go to yesterday. "Hey, Mr Martinez." She waved politely, hoodie hood pulled up and only the tips of fair brown hair sticking out.  
  
"Afternoon, Evelyn." Darren nodded back with a light smile. Evelyn smiled and looked back at Clint, questioningly.  
  
"You left your phone in my car yesterday." He held it up to see.  
  
"Thanks. That's the second time I've left it with you, now." Evelyn walked up the remaining steps of the stairs and onto the landing. Clint nodded.   
  
A few seconds passed and Evelyn nodded slowly. "Is that the only reason you're here?"  
  
"I... also wanted to check you were okay after yesterday. I don't exactly have your number to call. Not that it would help anyway because you left it in the front seat."  
  
"Yeah. Little Miss Scatterbrain, me, when I'm emotional." Evelyn laughed dryly at herself before straightening up. "I'm fine, though. Honest." She nodded softly with a half smile. Clint nodded again. In the following silence, you could faintly hear neighbours in the lower levels shuffling around in their apartment rooms it was so quiet between the three. Evelyn took in a breath. "Do you want to come in for a drink or something? These bags are really heavy."  
  
"Need a hand?"  
  
"Sure." Clint awkwardly manoeuvred one out of her arms so she could reach and grab her keys from her hoodie and unlock the door. "See you, Mr Martinez." She waved back to him as the door opened.  
  
"Darren." He reminded her, nearly a tradition now.  
  
"Darren." She corrected before leading Clint inside and locking the door behind them.  
  
  
Clint headed into the apartment and into the small hallway just before the main room. Evelyn sighed, pulling down her hood and heading into the rest of the apartment. "It's not much, but it's home." She introduced, dropping her bag on the counter and beginning to unpack as Clint looked around the bland living area. "I don't have much in the way of hot drinks so you're going to have to deal with the instant stuff. I usually prefer something softer than coffee, anyway." She said, opening cupboards to unpack. "Feel free to sit down, by the way."  
  
"I don't mind. I'll have whatever you're having." He dropped his bag down, eyes elsewhere in the apartment as he studied it in full while the kid sorted her own stuff.  
  
It was so... bare. The walls were a cheap beige, the carpet was old and worn with age. The kitchen had little to no equipment laid out on the counters that would be classic staples in any home, especially for cooking. The mental comparison between Clint's large and lavish house to Evelyn's tiny one-floor apartment made the back of his neck itch uncomfortably. The place looked barely inhabitable, and still, she was somehow living here.  
  
"You adverse to a hot chocolate?" Her voice brought him back to reality.  
  
"Not at all." He shook his head, stepping into the room and taking a seat on the edge of the tattered material sofa. His eyes raked over the coffee table and the laptop that suddenly binged quietly, though the screen was pitch black and marked with greasy fingerprints. "It's not that warm today, anyway." That was true. The hotter temperature had relaxed today, but he was still dressed in a shirt and jeans like normal, just no jacket to accompany him.  
  
A few seconds later, after a short spell of a bubbling sound, a mug was held up to his face. "Here."  
  
"Thanks. Your computer beeped, by the way." He took the mug off her.  
  
"Thanks." She picked it up off the table, resting it on her forearm and tapping the keyboard to wake it up. The engine turning on did not sound healthy at all, a more than audible whirring along with the sound of a partially blocked air vent emanated from it as it woke up. But that wasn't the only odd thing about it. The computer itself looked like it had been pulled together from scraps. Parts that clearly didn't belong to the original model were screwed on in place of the old parts, and the screen glitched in sections every so often.  
  
"Your computer is kind of..." The agent didn't want to sound shallow by pointing it out.  
  
"Yeah. It used to have a habit of dying on me whenever I moved it the wrong way so I poked around and fixed a few things." Evelyn didn't move her eyes offscreen as she typed with one hand.   
  
"Really are Little Miss Fix-It, aren't you?" Clint sipped the hot chocolate.   
  
"Hey, I didn't even make a joke about your age, that time! Not fair." Evelyn grumped at him. Clint only chuckled softly back. "But, I guess you're right in this sense. You'll find a lot of stuff around here looking like a cyborg version of itself. I've had to fix and repair a lot of stuff in the time I've lived here."   
  
Clint took a proper look at the bits of the apartment he could see. Things like the laundry machine and the faucets looked to have been DIY repaired. "How long have you lived here?"  
  
"About two years. Moved in when I was sixteen." Evelyn put her laptop on the arm of the sofa, opposite end to Clint, and went to pick up her own mug.  
  
"Alone?"  
  
"Do you see anyone else around?" She turned on the spot before grabbing her mug. "Do you see dead people?" She croaked her voice purposefully.  
  
Clint rolled his eyes. "No. I'm just thinking."  
  
"If you're thinking about the fact I live on my own, might I remind you that you do too. And in that huge farmhouse of yours." Evelyn sipped.  
  
"I have Lucky. Plus, I'm older than you."  
  
"Yeah, you are."  
  
"Hey." Clint pointed with a warning tone. The teen smirked into her mug. "You could at least have a goldfish or something in here."  
  
"Well, maybe I could borrow Lucky for a few days." Evelyn joked softly, walking back over to her laptop to scroll, but Clint seemed to pick up on the slight sound of consideration in her voice. "Ah. I'm gonna need to take a few hours off next Thursday. College interview." She sighed, running a hand through her hair. "Day before my birthday as well. Yay(!)" The sarcasm was clearly evident to anyone who could hear.  
  
"It's your birthday next Friday?" Clint hadn't thought about the kid's birthday. And apparently neither had the kid by the way she froze mid-type.  
  
"Forget I mentioned that." Evelyn gulped down her hot chocolate, sitting down with her laptop on her knees.  
  
"Why?"  
  
"So, Thursday, can I have a few hours off?" Evelyn spoke a little louder, repeating. Clint studied her for a moment before deciding to let it go.  
  
"Perfectly fine." Barton agreed softly, fingers wrapping around the plain black porcelain, warming his already warmed hands from the summer weather. Maybe he should have asked for water, instead. But looking at the faucet by the sink it was probably the better choice to have kept with the hot chocolate instead. At least Evelyn was consistent with her hot drink choices. He needed to remember to buy more at the market when he headed home after this.  
  
"Can I have my phone back now, by the way?"


	21. Text

**The next day - Saturday - 1:30pm**  
Never let it be said I didn't suffer for my occupation.  
  
My occupation right now being: babysitter to a hyper little monster who should never be allowed to taste sugar ever again.  
  
I used to wonder why I was never allowed a lot of sugary things during the day when I was younger. Now I no longer wonder. Its because kids turn into the human equivalent of a bouncy ball running around and giggling and just apparently not being able to stay in the same place for more than five seconds. Or start making a noise of 'aaaaaaaaah' as they spin in a continuous circle in the centre of the carpet and making a better door than a window as I tried distracting myself with the TV flicked onto a random channel. How my grandparents ever put up with me when I was a child and have as much patience as they do today, I will never know. I swear I had some form of ADHD when I was younger. Maybe I still did. Who knows? Teenagers have a bunch of weird shit going on in their lives.  
  
"Evie! I wanna do your makeup!" The girl stopped spinning in a circle, swaying on the spot in the way I had previously associated with drunken adults. She looked so excited as if I'd told her I was taking her to Disneyland. I sighed, dejectedly, as I weighed up my options and how much dignity would be lost should I agree to be the little monster's tester.  
  
Well, if it got her to sit still for ten seconds, it was a price I was willing to pay... mostly.  
  
The fawn haired child sat in my lap as she worked on her masterpiece, and for once I was glad Darren wasn't here. I don't think he would ever let me live it down. Teachers were often like that. Or at least teaching assistants were, I found.  
  
She finished her work after a while of playing, and I was sure I would have a black eye or pink eye or something in a few hours from the number of times she poked and prodded me with her cutesy little pink princess makeup set. Why did it smell so much of harsh chemicals? Are these companies trying to kill our kids?   
  
I looked at myself using my phone camera since I don't carry compacts, preparing myself for the image I would see on the screen.  
  
It was... a look. A look that could only be described as just too much makeup. Don't get me wrong, I didn't mind a little makeup from time to time but this was... not unbelievably pleasant. The rouge on my cheeks was too bright. The blue eye-shadow was too heavy. And the red lipstick was... well, actually, that wasn't half bad. I'd have to make a note of that for later. But, considering my pale-as-a-sheet complexion since I avoided the summer sun like a virus, it seemed just a little too much. As well as the fact the crimson colour was covering more of the skin  _around_ my lips than my actual lips.  
  
But, fuck it. I could rock this. In fact...  
  
"Hey, Mace, come here a second." I opened my arm in indication for her to snuggle up to me. Seeing the phone in my other hand, Macy giggled and dove into my side, giving me what I was sure were the fifth set of bruises this month from her barrelling into me one way or another. She was definitely going to be a clingy one when it came to having a boyfriend or girlfriend in the future.  
  
Lifting and angling my phone to reflect both our faces on screen, I pouted my lips as Macy pulled a duck-face, holding up a peace sign because, sure, that's what seven-year-olds were doing in pictures nowadays, and took a few with us pulling various silly faces before putting my phone back down. Macy jumped from my arms like a dog seeing a squirrel for the first time and left me to delete some of the blurred images while saving the good ones. Or as good as they could be when my makeup was done by a cake-filled child.  
  
Scrolling through my phone as I waited for the eventual calming of the child in front of me, I came to the contacts page on my phone. Clint's number, thanks to our talk yesterday, was now stored in the C folder. Although I could probably think of another 'c' word that in capitals could be easily mistaken for Clint's name spelling.  
  
 _No. Stop it. Don't be mean, Evie. You're mean when you're bored. Ugh._  
  
Not that taking care of Macy was boring but... well, waiting for her to be calm enough to have some sort of rational conversation was. Or as rational as a seven-year-old could be. And seeing Clint's number onscreen gave me an idea. What better way to start a conversation than the first message you ever send is a picture of yourself looking like a cheap--  
  
Stopping that thought, I sent a picture of me and the little rugrat with the caption  _'do I make a pretty princess?'_ , not exactly expecting a reply and not giving much thought about the fact I had just sent that text to my  _boss_. Oh well. Live and learn. Getting fired is probably the worst thing that could happen as a consequence, anyway. And since Clint had made it somewhat clear that he didn't care about whether I actually wanted to continue or not since the barn incident, I didn't fret much. Instead, I just focussed on the little monster currently aiming to get more ice-cream out of the fridge, running to the chair she stood on to put a very quick stop to that shit.  
  
  
 **Clint's POV - Same time**  
The sound of dog food clattering into the metal bowl had Lucky running into the kitchen like a moth to a flame. It was almost as if I never fed him at all the way he rushed at the bowl as if it would disappear. Putting away the dog food and pouring fresh water into the second bowl to put down beside His Majesty, I stood back up straight to hear the sound of my phone buzzing against the kitchen counter. I picked it up and flipped it round to see the screen.  
  
"Who's texting?" And of course, Natasha appears as soon as anything remotely interesting happens. She peeked over my shoulder to read the screen and smile. "Aw. That's sweet." She tilted her head, straightened red hair falling out of the striped hoodie she had stolen from my wardrobe. "Kinda reminds me of the first time you tried to do my makeup."  
  
"Are you or are you not staying at my house for the weekend, Widow?" I squinted my eyes at her resting her chin on my shoulder. She only smiled and blinked up at me in a way that was so close to being shit-eating it was not polite. I rolled my eyes and she nodded to the phone.  
  
"Well, respond then, Arrow Guy."  
  
"How?"  
  
"Like this." Reaching around, she slipped the phone from my hands to lift up at a high angle, snapping a photo with her smiling expression and my much more confused-yet-annoyed one side by side. "And a small caption to match." She typed as I tried to snatch it back, unable to reach as far as her own arm extended before she declared _"Sent"_ triumphantly, handing the phone back so I could read what she'd written without permission.  
  
" _'Hanging with the spider'._  You do realise that will make absolutely no sense to her?" I raised an eyebrow.  
  
"Well, it makes sense to me so... I don't care." She shrugged, untangling herself from me to pick up her coffee cup off the counter.  
  
I tried not rolling my eyes again, instead opting for a head shake this time before the device vibrated in my hand. "She responded. _'Is this an inside joke I'm not party to?'_. See?" I gestured the phone and she shrugged. It vibrated again. " _'Also, your friend Natasha is pretty'_. I don't think I was supposed to read that one out loud." I put the phone down on the counter with careful consideration.  
  
"I have to meet her properly, now." Nat swung her legs, sitting on the table as if she owned it. She might as well have considering all the things she'd stolen off me, such as most of her outfit today including the hoodie and jeans.  
  
"You're still going to be here on Monday. You'll see her then when she comes over for the day."  
  
"Awesome."


	22. Visitors

**3rd Person POV - Monday 20th - Week 4**  
"Clint?" Evie wiped her head with her hoodie sleeve as she walked into the porch, calling out for the archer while Lucky rushed by her feet. The plastic bag rustled in her free hand.  
  
"Kitchen!" Came the reply from further inside. Lucky barked as Evie followed through the living room towards the sound of muffled voices before pushing the already ajar door open wider. The voices died off as two figures entered her field of vision, happily chatting and sipping drinks before Clint waved. "Hey."  
  
Evie nodded slowly, waving back, her eyes specifically on the redhead in the room. "Hey." Clint stood by the island counter, sipping an iced-tea while Romanoff sat on the long table drinking from a similarly branded cup.  
  
"I believe you two have met before." Clint's tone held just the slightest hint of sarcasm. Evelyn couldn't exactly blame him since the first time Nat and she had interacted she'd basically ran out on them.  
  
"I think we were a little hastily introduced last time." Natasha hopped off the table, switching her drinking hands and holding one out. "Natasha."  
  
"Evelyn." The brunette shook her hand, feeling the coldness from the drink cup pass through her palm. It was a welcome reprieve considering the heat currently beating down outside. The temperature had picked up since it's a brief break on Sunday. "I brought ice-cream." Evie held up the plastic bag in her other hand, looking at Clint. "Three tubs."  
  
"I thought we agreed we'd leave the ice-cream to me, Evie." Clint crossed his arms but his tone was soft and joking.  
  
Evie resisted sticking out her tongue at him. "Yeah, but... well, yeah, I wanted to. I got all raspberry ripple because I know Clint likes it but I didn't know what you liked. Or if you had intolerances or stuff." Evie trailed off awkwardly at Natasha, reputation for human interaction having never been her forte proving itself once again.  
  
Nat chuckled with a soft smile. "She's cute."   
  
Evie placed the bag down on the counter and pulled out the tubs as Barton retrieved the spoons.  
  
"This better not be your breakfast, Evelyn." He tapped her nose with the spoon before holding it out.  
  
"It's not. I had toast." That was half-true. She'd had half a slice and dropped the other on the floor and since Evie didn't believe in the five-second rule and couldn't be bothered making another slice, ice-cream was next on the menu. Clint seemed to believe her, at least, though Natasha's cool gaze made her feel as though the redhead somehow knew. However, she didn't say anything on the subject if she did know, and Evelyn was thankful for that.  
  
A nuzzling at her leg caught her attention. "And if they sold dog-friendly ice-cream at the store, Lucky, I would have bought some for you, too." She ruffled the canine's fur as he barked.  
  
"Careful. If Lucky eats too much he'll end up with a 'Dad's Belly' like Barton."  
  
"Hey!" Clint scowled before patting what was audible as pretty much solid abs from the thudding noise. "I am perfectly fit and healthy, I'll have you know."  
  
"Yes, that's why you threw your back out a few weeks ago." The teen smirked smugly. The archer grunted with a glare.  
  
"Is this 'pick on Clint' day for the two of you?" Clint bristled, moodily. "Just because I have you both over as guests does not mean I won’t kick you out on your asses if you don’t follow the house rules, alright?" Barton squinted at the two of them in his most threatening glare.   
  
"He is such an old man."  
  
"Right?" The teen turned to her, smiling. "See? I'm not the only one who thinks so. Natasha knows what’s up.” Evie nodded at Nat before looking at Clint.  
  
"I honestly think I'd prefer it if you two were fighting."  
  
"It's nice to finally have another girl around the place." Nat smiled, much to Clint’s dismay. "What? If you're taking off the summer, the least you can do is go out and meet people. Sitting in a lawn chair sipping iced tea is all perfectly fine but you should be making an effort to try something new. Find a girl that can actually put up with and stick by your stubborn ass for longer than a week."  
  
"I don't need a girlfriend. I'm fine on my own."  
  
"A lone man with his dog in a house/farm big enough to hold a family of six? Definitely not compensating for anything, I'm sure." Nat hummed with a raised eyebrow. Evelyn choked on her spoonful and had to cough out her laughter under the icy glower of her red-faced boss.  
  
"Nat, if you're just going to be mean, you can go back to SHIELD."  
  
"Yes, but, pretending to need you really brings us closer together, doesn't it, Hawkeye?"  
  
Clint sighed and turned to Evie, rubbing his face. "Ignore most of what she says, please? I don't think I could handle two Natashas at once for a full day. Evie, I beg you."  
  
"No promises... Hawkeye."  
  
"Evelyn."  
  
  
The day went pretty much the same as any other, just with Natasha as a spectator for most of the morning's activities, up until Evie found herself alone in the kitchen with the redhead as Clint announced he could fill the birdfeeders on his own. The teen had a feeling she'd been set up for this one.  
  
Regardless, it was much easier to get along with Nat without Clint there to act as a punching bag for the two than she'd anticipated, both girls sharing idle chat that soon turned to more personal talk, though the personal stuff was more on Evelyn's side. Unsurprisingly.  
  
"Nah, she's a good kid. Excitable, and a slightly lousy baker but she's got a good heart. I hope she doesn't lose that when she gets older." Evelyn had finished her ice-cream by now, as had Natasha, but fiddled with the pen regularly brought with her crossword book currently strewn beside her on the kitchen table. "And she's not growing up to be a makeup artist, I can say that for sure."  
  
"Don't doubt the power of practice. Barton is surprisingly good at hair and makeup, not that he'll tell you that."  
  
Evie furrowed her brow. "Really?"  
  
Nat nodded. "It came up when we had a mission in California as part of his 'Jeremy Renner' identity. He had to pose as a hair and makeup artist. Clint is actually good at a lot of strangely different things come to think of it."  
  
"Such as?"  
  
Nat crossed her arms in her stolen hoodie from Clint, eyes glancing away as she thought. "We've had missions in the past where he pretended to be a ski instructor. And for a while, he acted as a house renovator. Through most of his cover stories, he did work to pick up the basics and now just has a few unique skills in his repertoire." The redhead agent explained, holding her coffee mug in both hands. "This place looks nothing like it did when he bought it. Well, the barn only got an interior redecoration but whenever he's here he's not really content with the place. For someone that can hold back a bowstring for hours in the rain, he just can't sit still for long. He did the tiles and lamination for the floor in here and added the sunroom and paved the pathway outside surrounding the house. The guy even tried to put up the secluded garden area by himself."  
  
"All by himself?" Evie asked.  
  
"Well, he'll tell you he did it all by himself. But a few of his friends who owed him some favours stepped in to make sure he didn't fall face-first into the pond and drown." Natasha chuckled, sipping her coffee and leaving a light pink lipstick stain on the white porcelain.  
  
Evie smiled softly at her. "You're cool." She complimented.  
  
"Really? I thought I was 'pretty'." Natasha smirked, bringing her mug to her lips again.  
  
It took Evie a second to register why Nat would say that, then she remembered her babysitting texts and her eyes bulged. "Oh my god, I am so sorry."  
  
Nat laughed, shaking her head. "Don't apologise. It was a nice compliment to hear."  
  
"Oh, don't let her say sorry. It will never end if she starts that." Clint's voice followed him entering the kitchen, chuckling softly. Evie didn't stop herself sticking her tongue out that time and he outright laughed. Evelyn rolled her eyes and tried to ignore him. "Oh hey, look what I found in the barn." He lifted an arm to reveal a metal hoop in his grasp. The two girls quickly realised it was a basketball hoop designed to be hung on an outdoor wall. "Thinking I might set it up outside. There's a good space on the wall that's perfect." The archer grinned excitedly before checking his watch.  "And we've got about an hour to lunch. Hope you both have laughed up an appetite."  
  
"Might have." Nat shrugged a shoulder before turning to Evie. "You any good in defence, Evelyn?"  
  
Evelyn blinked at the sudden shift of conversation. "Uh... kinda? Clint's been wanting to show me a few things." She fidgeted with her hands in her lap.  
  
"Great. Come on. Spar with me." Natasha hopped off the table with her mug, heading out of the kitchen in the direction of the barn.  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"Go easy on her, Nat. Don't kill her." Clint called after Natasha as Evelyn jumped off the table.  
  
"What?" The teen looked scared. "You need to  _tell_ her not to kill me? What?" Evie flicked her eyes between the redhead and brunet, suddenly not at all confident as before. "Clint. Help."  
  
Clint chuckled and got onto making lunch as Nat practically scared Evie into sparring in the barn. It took a few minutes but Evie did eventually loosen up at the joke at her expense and got down to trying to give the elder female something to work with. Natasha did have to pull back some, but not as much as she expected she might have to. Evelyn was doing good, the girl knew how to throw a punch and to put her strength behind it, but she wasn't an experienced fighter past fight-or-flight responses. The redhead took that into consideration and briefly wondered why Evelyn already knew how to do that. Nat was fairly certain regular high school P.E. classes didn't teach that kind of stuff.  
  
Barton soon called them through to the kitchen for lunch, something high in protein that was cleared away almost instantly... well, two bowls were emptied and one half finished but finished quickly nonetheless. Small talk and a few compliments by Natasha about how well Evie had done in sparring, as well as a few jokes to Barton's expense over the idea of possible partner replacement, Clint went to set up the hoop on the expanse of wall a few paces outside the porch door.  
  
Which landed them outside, ten minutes later, playing with a basketball and not really following any scheme of rules other than  _'grab the ball when you can and shoot - we'll cheer if you get it in'_. It reminded Evelyn of high-school gym classes, except usually in class she was getting hit in the head a lot more, and not because they were playing dodgeball. So, she was just happy that the two agents passing the ball between each other hadn't decided to gang up on her and instead gave her a fair chance to shoot and score.  
  
In terms of skills for the game, all three seemed to be pretty evenly matched.  
  
The ball bounced over to the redhead from skimming the rim of the hoop, and into her hands. "Are you going to ask her, then?" She tossed it to Evelyn.  
  
"Ask me what?" Evie raised an eyebrow at Clint, juggling the ball.  
  
Clint seemed to hesitate for a second, glancing back at Natasha before a nod pushed him. "This Sunday, SHIELD is having a Graduation Party. It's for the SHIELD members who are officially turning Agents after their final exams. Naturally, the whole building is invited because, according to Maria, it  _'boosts morale for all agents regardless of their involvement on the matter to come together and celebrate everyone else'_." Evie snorted at Clint's feminine voice and excessive use of air quotes. Clint grinned. "Natasha was wondering whether you'd join her as her date."  
  
"Not true, it was Clint's invitation. And excuse me, Hawkeye, but you're coming too, don't forget." Natasha watched Evelyn shoot again and score before catching the ball.  
  
"But Nat, it's so boring. I'm supposed to be off duty for the summer. Kicking back on a sun lounger, sipping iced tea and not listening to the sounds of distant explosions or whatever you said I should be doing," The archer all but whined at the agent.  
  
"Oh dear. Having to dress up in more than jeans and a shirt and socialising with other things than Lucky. How will you possibly survive?"  
  
"Oh shut up, Red," Clint grunted, crossing his arms stiffly.  
  
Nat rolled her eyes, looking to the teen. "Long story short, Clint is asking you if you want to go to a party on Sunday. It's not in Headquarters because of an... incident that happened last time including a few Level 7'ers and some spiked punch, so getting you in wouldn't be too hard. You'd blend in with the regular interns due to your age, anyway."  
  
"I'm kinda with Clint on this one. I'm not one for big socialising parties. I've already sworn off drinking this summer after a night out a few weeks ago by myself." Evie rubbed the back of her neck. That earned a knowing chuckle from both agents. "Plus, I wouldn't want to bother you guys all night by following you around like a lost puppy and I doubt I know anyone else there to talk to." She rolled the ball in her hands, eyes dropping to the floor in a mumble.  
  
"Well, you're not obligated to go. Clint just thought you might like it if you had no other plans on the weekend." Natasha reaffirmed.  
  
"Its rare I ever have plans on the weekend." Came another mumble.  
  
"And you wouldn't be bothering us. We  _want_ to bring you. You said you liked coming and working here because it got you out of your apartment. I thought you might enjoy it for different circumstances. Stop putting yourself down, Evie." Clint almost reached out to clap his hand on her shoulder but resisted. The teen's eyes moved up to his and he saw the small smile at the corner of her mouth start to grow at the statement. Which is when he seized the ball off her, shuffling around and shooting to score, letting the ball bounce away as he turned to face the open-mouthed girl staring in shock. "Sorry. Couldn't resist." Barton smirked, winking.  
  
"Dirty player! Dirty player!" Evelyn declared before turning to Romanoff. "Natashaaaaa. Tell him ooooff." Evie came close to stamping her foot and pouted at the redhead, whining.  
  
"Why don't you tell him off yourself?"  
  
"Because he listens to you."  
  
Clint scoffed from behind. "How'd you figure that?"  
  
"Oh please. I've only been here a few hours and I can already tell who answers to who around here." Evelyn crossed her arms, clicking her tongue. Both agents raised their brows, sharing silent looks with one another as Evie mulled over her own words. "That did not come out half as politely as I wanted it to, I'm sorry." She started chewing on the sleeve of her hoodie, eyes flicking between the two adults guiltily.  
  
Clint tutted comically and wagged a finger in her face, other hand on his hip as he bent forward. "What have we said about the word 'sorry', Evelyn?"  
  
Evelyn and Natasha groaned together, eyes rolling. "Oh  _shut up_ , you old ass."


	23. Fun is fair

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This scene contains bullying. Nothing explicit but it's just a warning

**Tuesday - Evelyn's POV** **\- 11:15am**  
This may be known locally as a shitty town for most of its time, but even I had to admit, they could brush up well when they wanted to.  
  
It was busy all around us, people walking up and down the paths and in between stalls, occasionally brushing and apologising to one another as their attention was taken by another attraction. Smells of freshly baked goods and the sugary sweetness of candyfloss or other pieces of confectionery filled the air, so strong you could practically taste it on your tongue, bright lights and neon signs flashes and sparked all around, dragging new customers to the stands and stalls.  
  
Clint had been delivered a flyer for the  _Annual Ashforn Fun Day_. Basically, it was like our town's version of big-league sports day with a few classic carnival stalls and shops set up in place of the Farmer's Market. I have to admit I was sceptical at first. A carnival? Really? Did he really want to go to that or was he and Natasha just doing it for my sake because I'm a child and surely should love that stuff? But then my brain decided to compare the look Clint wore to one of a -cranky, old- puppy, and unfortunately, way too easily for my taste, I shrugged in defeat. Apparently, Natasha had crashed on the sofa overnight and Clint wasn't going to tell the firebrand to go back to her own bed to sleep. Not that I minded, I quite liked Natasha. She felt like the first real female friend I'd had in a long time. And we'd left Lucky at home due to the excess of people because if Lucky escaped off the lead we'd never hear the end of it.  
  
It was a pretty busy place, being summer and everything, but I just stuck close to the two SHIELD agents as we wandered around, trying out a few of the booths for fun. Turns out Nat and Clint were pretty good when it came to stalls such as the ring toss and the water gun target shooty things, because, well, aim. Clint ended up winning a puppy stuffie which he offered to Nat, who took it with an eye roll but a small smile that she tried to hide as she put it in her bag.  
  
Soon after wandering around for a little and having multiple arguments over the fact Clint kept offering to pay for slushies and those giant pretzel things they were serving for us all, soon settled by Natasha because who the fuck would argue with her, we ended up at a ball toss booth. I'd yet to really try any of the booths, considering I didn't normally carry much money with me, so this was the first I ended up paying for an overpriced turn alongside Clint as Natasha went to locate a bathroom.  
  
"So, this turning out to be a good day so far?" Clint asked, picking up a ball and weighing it in his hand.  
  
"Better than good," I answered, crossing my arms to spectate.   
  
He tossed the ball at the painted target and hit just slightly to the left, two out of the six bottles piled up fell to the ground. Good aim.  
  
Clint hummed and picked up another one. "Have you ever been to a funfair before?" The archer threw his next ball, knocking two more down. Two bottles and two balls left.  
  
"When I was younger, sure," I picked up a ball from the basket provided on the side of the counter, four for a turn. "My grandparents used to always take me when I was little. It was like our traditional thing to do. Play a few games, get hyper on candyfloss, kids stuff." I mumbled, running my thumb over the cheap material pulling apart at the seams. Clint's third ball hit the pile, knocking one more. "Growing older, it kind of lost its appeal. Getting into high-school I outgrew it. Or I just didn't want to go outside anymore." I tossed the cheap material at my own pile, hitting and knocking the top two bottles off my pile.   
  
"Huh," He said, gently picking up his final ball, juggling it.  
  
"What ' _huh_ '?" I squinted at him suspiciously, tossing my second ball and knocking three down.   
  
The agent huffed, amused. "I thought you were supposed to take pity on an old man and let me win?" Clint threw his final one to knock all four down.  
  
I took the ball from his hand. "How long have you known me, Hawkeye?" I flung the third ball, knocking two more. One ball and one bottle left. "And what ' _huh_ '?" I took my fourth from the basket.  
  
"Nothing, I just... took you for someone who would always be out at these sort of things." I looked down at the ball in my hands. "You're clearly a sporty girl and enjoy being outdoors so I just wondered what changed."  
  
"I'm not six anymore." I shrugged at him. He furrowed his brow.   
  
"You don't have to be a child to enjoy carnivals and fairs, you know. Look, Nat and I are both having a good time and we're how many years older than you?" He questioned with a smile and I looked back at the targets. "Why didn't it feel right to go outside anymore?" He continued and I shrugged again, sizing up the target. Clint stayed quiet, watching me, but I was distracted, regardless of his silence.  
  
"It just... it lost its appeal, okay? I didn't like going outside where everyone else was. I didn't enjoy playing on my own and the crowds that hung around where I lived weren't friendly. I didn't enjoy being outside on my own and when I moved out of my grandparent's house it just got worse." She grumbled out, taking a few breaths.  
  
Clint studied her. "You're not claustrophobic, are you?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Social anxiety?"  
  
"To a degree. But what teenager doesn't have that?" She brushed it off with a shrug. "This is a shitty town, Clint, and often that means a few shitty people live here. You know this. Now, do me a favour and leave it alone," Evelyn said gently.  
  
Clint's brow furrowed. "Is everything okay?"  
  
"It's fine. Just... let's stop talking about this." Evelyn said more firmly.  
  
"Evelyn, something is clearly making you uncomfortable-"  
  
"Yeah, and its this conversation. Now can we drop it, please?"  
  
"I'm just trying to understand what's suddenly making you act so hostile. You said this is a shitty town with shitty people living here. What's going on that's made you want to stop going outside anymore?"  
  
"Shut up!"  
  
 _"Hey!"_  The ball didn't hit the milk bottles as I intended, but instead the cheek of the stall manager.  
  
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," I stammered out, gut clenching in guilt. He gave me a signal that it was a warning, but picked up the ball off the floor and set it on the counter again. Quiet. I just kind of stared at the worn material for a second, avoiding Clint's gaze and waiting for him to talk again. I could make out his figure silhouette in the edge of my sightline, but he didn't seem to be moving, just staring at me.  
  
"Have you seen the size of the line for those bathrooms? It's really not worth it." Natasha's gentle voice approached through the crowds as I watched her boots and blue jeans enter my peripherals.  
  
Silence.  
  
"Everything okay?" She was looking at Clint more than me as she asked.  
  
I picked up the ball from the counter and hurled it. I missed my pile and instead hit the next dead-centre, sending all six bottles tumbling down and knocking the last of my own pile onto the floor, too.  
  
"Wow," Natasha said softly as I blinked at my own display. I hadn't been aiming for that stack. Or had thought I'd used that much strength. But I'd hit it all the same and now twelve bottles were on the floor of the stall.  
  
"I didn't mean to push." Clint's voice spoke from my side and I took a soft breath in.  
  
"Two prizes for the girl for both stacks, one prize for the guy for the one," The stall manager interrupted and gestured to where the stuffed animals and plastic toys were strung all over the place. I was mildly surprised he counted the second one considering it was an accident but, hey ho.  
  
"Just... one of anything. I don't mind, and I don't really need two." I slid my hands in my jean pockets, still not looking at Clint. Or Nat, for that matter.  
  
A small [teddy bear](https://www.readyteddygo.co.uk/media/catalog/product/cache/1/image/600x600/9df78eab33525d08d6e5fb8d27136e95/s/b/sb5428_2.jpg) was placed in front of me, and I reached out, touching the soft and slightly worn material before picking it up. "Thanks." The stall manager moved on to service a new family that had moved up to the counter.  
  
"Where were the bathrooms?" I finally turned to look at the redhead who was looking at me, studying me. Her azure eyes flicked between me and Clint before jutting her thumb over her shoulder.  
  
"Just by the trees there. Or the one I used which has a much shorter line beside the playground."  
  
"Right. I'm gonna..." I gestured softly, not making eye contact with either of them and just walked towards the direction instead, holding the arm of the teddy in my right hand, soon disappearing into the crowds of stalls.  
  
  
 **3rd Person POV**  
"What did you do?" Natasha questioned as soon as the kid was out of sight.  
  
The archer rubbed the back of his neck. "I... don't actually know." Widow raised an eyebrow, arms crossing. "I don't." Clint insisted, crossing his arms back at his friend.  
  
Tasha nodded slowly, glancing back at where the teen had disappeared into the crowd. "What were you two talking about before I came over?"  
  
"Past times at funfairs. And why she suddenly stopped going or going to anything outdoors at all." Clint told her, "The way she talked made it sound like she'd stopped going outside at all. And that she didn't enjoy being outside on her own and when she moved out of my grandparent's it just got worse." He furrowed his brow, volume dropping as he thought. "She also said people around her area weren't friendly, and that we live in a shitty town with shitty people."  
  
"Clint," Nat said shortly. He hummed. "Read back everything you just said to yourself, and compare it with anything you've noticed otherwise about the kid. The eating, the shyness, the apologising, all of it." The archer furrowed his brow but did as she instructed. He ran the words over his mind before blinking at the idea that formed in his mind. Oh, wow. That was... jeez. How had he missed that as a possibility when he was pushing her? "Are you seeing what I'm seeing?" Widow prompted.  
  
"I think I'm starting to." He said, groaning and rubbing his hands over his face, sighing at his own stupidity. He let his hands drop to his lap. "I really should apologise."  
  
"Let's just wait for her to come back, first. Don't want to give her another reason to use the bathroom, hm?"  
  
"Ha bloody ha, Red."  
  
Both agents were fairly patient, had to be considering their job. But as the minutes ticked by, both seemed to be growing increasingly concerned at the lack of sight of a teenager coming back to the stall. She couldn't have gotten lost, as much as there were bustling crowds surrounding them, there were maps strung everywhere. And Nat had mentioned a much shorter line for that bathroom. So when it got to twenty minutes, and an unanswered text from Barton to Evelyn, the two began making their way through the crowds in a search.  
  
Brushing past people, looking above the sea of heads to try and locate their girl, both came up empty. Not at the stalls they passed, not ordering food or drink at a stand, and not talking to anyone she'd bumped into that she recognised. And she definitely wasn't at or in the bathroom.  
  
The two agents came out to a clearer area of the field where families had moved to sit down with blankets for picnics, slightly muddy from the sprinklers early that morning. Barton checked his phone again. Still no reply. It was delivered, but still unread. He shook his head, doing another quick glance around, ready to head back to the ball toss when he spotted something golden and fuzzy sticking out on the thin grass just a few paces before the trees. Brow furrowing, he walked over, kneeling down to examine the object.  
  
It was the teddy bear from the ball toss. Eveyln's prize, lying on the ground with its face caked in mud. But as Clint picked it up and turned it over to examine it, he realised the bear had been trodden on, and it looked to have been purposeful. Holding it up for Tasha to see and recognise, she spun round to try and spot the brunette in the crowd, before following the footprints trekked in the mud, a few sets heading towards a clearing beside a powered-down carnival ride.  
  
Tapping the archer's shoulder, she gestured and the two set off approaching the small, closed off area, making their footfalls quiet as they heard the first voice.  
  
 _"Oh for fuck's sake, shut up, Evelyn, and maybe this will be a lot less painful for you. Maybe."  
  
"Jake, let me go or we'll all regret it. Someone's gonna see or hear you."_  
  
The first voice they didn't know. It was male, late teens. But the second was definitely Evie. Turning the corner, they spotted the brunette, arms captured by a blond teenager behind her back, a raven-haired female holding Evie's backpack and rifling through it, tossing out items into the mud as she seemed to be looking for something specific, and a final boy, also raven hair, but this one was looking ready to punch her, fist balled in her shirt.  
  
"We aren't in school anymore, Summers. And no one's come to your aid so far. Probably because no one gives two shits about you. No one around here cares enough to even try and save your ass."  
  
"I wouldn't be so sure about that," Clint spoke up loud enough to be heard across the distance.  
  
The grip on Evelyn's arms and shirt suddenly disappeared. Her bag was dropped our of its ransacker's hands. Evelyn blinked and sighed, partly in relief and also exasperation.  
  
"Who the fuck are you two?" The raven-haired boy squinted at the agents. That was the first voice they'd heard, 'Jake'.  
  
"Guys, this really isn't your fight. Just... go back to the fair. Please." Evelyn spoke gently, rubbing her arms where they'd been yanked behind her body.  
  
The taller boy glanced suspiciously between Evelyn and the pair of adults for a moment before pausing. Then he started laughing. "Oh, wow, you really  _are_ into older men, aren't you, Summers?" Jake smirked, arms crossing. Evelyn glared. "I mean, everyone had suspicions with the whole Mr Martinez situation a few years ago but this just solidifies those rumours. You are seriously one messed up chick." He shook his head, chuckling.  
  
"I'm not dating him, asshole." Evelyn bit back. "And the two of them really need to go back to the fair. Now." She jutted her head in the direction of the screaming and laughing back towards the active rides and stalls.  
  
"Aw. Are they your fill-in parents, then? Finally found people that could actually stand you, this time?" The blond behind her, Ethan she mentally grated, snorted at her. Evelyn winced at the figurative low blow. She would have prefered an actual punch to that line.  
  
"Doubt it. Look at them. Probably just here to take her back to whatever special school she broke out of." Jen, the other female, scoffed, pressing her crossword book further into the mud.  
  
"Actually, it's more like this." Clint reached into his back pocket, Natasha following his movements, and the two retrieved their wallets to open and show two professional Police badges. "Ashorn City Police Department, and I believe we've just stumbled across a jump."  
  
The three teenagers shared looks, the blond taking another step away from Evelyn as the girl moved back from the bag.  
  
"A jump? No, no, no, Officers. We are perfectly law-abiding citizens." Jake held up his hands in the air. Evelyn scoffed. "In trouble with the police, then, Evie? Unsurprising. Who did you lose your temper with this time? It's all coming full circle now."  
  
"Shut the fuck up, Jake."  
  
"Or what?" He took a step closer, lanky arms out and towering over Evelyn by a good few inches. The girl started stepping back. "What are you gonna do to me? What? You gonna hit me? In front of two police officers? Good plan. You were never the brightest in the class, either, no matter how much teachers loved to boast you were." Jake backed her up so her back hit Ethan's chest. She didn't look scared though, more like an animal when it was being cornered.  
  
The two agents glanced at each other, knowing Evelyn would soon lash out, but the two were unaware of whether they should stop it or not.  
  
"Alright, I think we need to calm down." Clint tried to diffuse the situation, hands pacifying. "Clearly this is a personal dispute and I doubt it should be being hashed out in a public place. But you need to step back before we charge you with provocation and disrupting the peace."  
  
"The only thing I'll be disrupting is your insides, Evelyn, when they leave." Jake hissed quietly to Evelyn. But both agents heard it, regardless.   
  
"Guys. Leave." Evelyn pressed again to the two adults, still backed against Ethan's chest.  
  
"Yes, please do. You'll be doing yourselves favours. No one really sticks around this one for too long. Can't stand her. Mental, bitchy, violent, just not worth your time. Not even to her parents, or so I've heard." Jake crossed his arms, smugly.  
  
"Jake, I'm warning you."  
  
"Threat! Verbal threat! You heard her threaten me." Jake looked at the agents.  
  
"Actually, I heard her warn you. I suggest you heed it," Natasha responded calmly.  
  
Jen spluttered from the side. "Are you serious? This nutcase is standing right in front of you, and you're looking at us like we've done anything wrong?"  
  
"It seems like this is an interrupted jump with a planned violent outcome. You should consider yourself lucky you're not in cuffs right this moment for attempted assault. That includes your two friends there." Clint replied, arms folding to match Natasha's stance.  
  
"I don't see your guns. Or your handcuffs. Or your car. Bet you're not even real police, grabbed those things from a fancy-dress store, just sad sacks come to watch this little show and playing heroes for kicks." Ethan grunted back.  
  
"In which case..." Jake grabbed Evie's throat, pulling her to him. "Shall we give 'em a show, sweetie?"  
  
It was easy enough to duck under the swing aimed her way, grabbing his wrist and striking the angry boy in the face instead, hearing a satisfying crack.  
  
Ethan and Jen looked to the supposed Officers.  
  
"Assault!" Ethan called out before going to grab Evie, quickly falling to the floor at the kick aimed at his stomach before being tackled to the floor.  
  
Jake wiped his bloody nose, looking up at Nat and Clint as Evie wrestled Ethan to the floor, fairly violently. "A little help or intervention, please?"  
  
"You swung first." Clint deadpanned as Evelyn stood up off Ethan and turned around, holding her hand.  
  
Jen began stepping back away, realising she was the only one still standing. and Nat or Clint weren't going to intervene. "Scatter! She's fucking mental and so are they!" Jumping over Evie's strewn bag and scrambling out of the field towards the park gate, Jen was quickly followed by a groaning Ethan and bleeding Jake screaming about reporting the two Officers.  
  
The two agents turned their attention to the brunette stood bent, glaring after the three running away.  
  
"Evelyn? Are you okay?" Clint gently asked the teen cradling her right hand in her left. Evie didn't say anything for a moment, taking deep breaths before finally turning to the archer and assassin, eyes shining slightly in pain. The archer opened his arms to her, beckoning her forward. "Come here, sweetheart."   
  
Evelyn stumbled over slightly, looking up with a shaking body to Barton and leaning against his chest as he wrapped his arms around her. "I think I really did break my hand this time. And it wasn't even because of your porch door." She laughed wetly at him, sniffing once. Barton shook his head, making a noise halfway between a sigh and laugh, running a hand over her hair and holding her close.  
  
The two agents locked eyes for a moment before Natasha nodded across the field. "Grab her stuff. We've had enough for one day, I think."


	24. Sprain on my parade

**Clint's house - 1 hour later**  
"Yep. You sprained it."  
  
"Fuck."  
  
"At least it's just your wrist. If it had been your hand, it would be taking weeks to heal up." The bandage wrap was soft on Eveyln's wrist, Clint taking care to fasten the cold compress around it to remedy the oncoming inflammation.  
  
"I'm surprised it wasn't. You fended off three bullies and broke one of their noses." Natasha sat to the right side of her, on the table, watching the two with a mug in her hands.  
  
Evelyn blinked in surprise, her memory of the incident obscured by the adrenaline she'd felt. "I broke Jake's nose? Score."  
  
"Evelyn."  
  
"Yeah, yeah, violence isn't the answer. I know. I don't need the anger management lesson." Evelyn turned to Clint sitting in a chair on her left, tying up the bandage and leaving her arm elevated above her heart, resting on an empty storage box from some random kitchen cupboard.  
  
"I was actually gonna say it was a good punch," Clint responded, surprisingly. Evie furrowed her brow in confusion. "Could've thrown your hips a little more into it, possibly hit with an open palm and this might not have happened." He tapped her fingers, avoiding the red and probably soon-to-bruise knuckles. He gave it another glance over. "It's gonna be bad for about three or so days, maybe more depending on how smart or stupid you're gonna act about it."  
  
"Hey," Evie grunted at him, scowling. The archer chuckled softly at her, and the teen ended up relaxing at the familiar sound and realising the joke, sitting back. "Thanks, Doctor Barton."  
  
"Want some pain killers?" Nat piped up, hopping off the table to refill her coffee mug.  
  
"Not unless you want me acting like a fruitloop. I barely have any drug tolerance at all. Sprained my ankle once as a kid, I spent a week believing I was a zebra." Evie chuckled in spite of herself. The two agents beside her smiled along, remembering similar situations together from past experiences that they swore to take to the grave. Evelyn rubbed her left hand over her right knuckles, hissing slightly at the stinging pain, making a note to look for plasters or moisturiser or a healing balm or something.  
  
"So..." The archer started and Evelyn glanced at him. "I'm guessing you don't want to talk about it."  
  
Evie dropped her head. "That's kind of what started this whole thing."  
  
"Why didn't you say anything about being bullied?" Natasha came back with a full mug to sit on the table again.  
  
"Did it really matter? That stuff was happening outside of my job, not when I was here, it wasn't and still isn't your responsibility. Besides, I can handle myself." The girl shrugged it off like nothing.  
  
"How long has it been happening?"  
  
Evie tapped her uninjured fingers on the table, worrying the inside of her lip before deciding to tell. "Mr Martinez who you heard them mention I was 'attracted to' was a primary school teacher." She used air quotes around the words. Clint looked mildly confused. "Darren, you know him as. My neighbour."  
  
"Ah. Right."  
  
"For the record, nothing is happening there." Evie quickly stated.  
  
"I didn't believe there was." Barton nodded, sating her. The teen nodded, relaxing again. "When at the stall you talked about shitty people and not wanting to go outside anymore, was it by any chance to do with those guys?" Her silence was answer enough. "Yeah, that's what we were thinking."  
  
"We?" Evie drew her brow.  
  
Clint gestured between himself and Nat. "Tasha noticed first. Just little things about you that were pointing towards a certain type of response behaviour. Fight-or-flight responses. Quick snaps of temperament. Otherwise trying to be appeasing and trying to get yourself out of trouble you were never in in the first place."  
  
"And the fact you can throw a mean punch when you want to." Nat smiled, almost a smirk.  
  
Evelyn huffed, smiling a little, but it was weak. She dropped her head again, eyes falling to her lap. "The food thing wasn't because of them. That's a different problem. Well, it's not really a problem, I don't have a disorder or anything..." His volume trailed off.  
  
The two agents left it alone as it seemed to be another thing that didn't need to be discussed right this moment.  
  
"Also, the jab about us being your 'fill-in' parents..."  
  
"Another aspect of that conversation I really don't feel like talking about right now," Evelyn responded.  
  
"Okay. No pressure." Clint held up his hands before folding them on the table. "You don't have to talk about anything you don't want to. Which is something I should have kept in mind when at the fair." "Speaking of which." Clint stood up, walking towards the storage room around the corner from the kitchen, pulling something out and tossing it into the dryer after checking the label and turning it on. He soon returned to the table, sitting down with a smile.  
  
Evelyn nodded softly, not sure what he had done but went to adjusting the cooling pad around her wrist as it applied slight pressure to the sprain. Then she paused and looked up at Natasha.  
  
"Why do you have a police badge, too?"  
  
"Huh?" Nat paused, mid-sip in coffee.  
  
"I know Clint has one because of the whole summer job thing, but why do you have one? Or at least, why were you carrying it today?" The teen questioned gently, tilting her head.  
  
Widow put her mug down to the side of her, hands folding in her lap. "It's good to be prepared for anything, as we've seen today. And it also helps get out of speeding tickets." She winked at the girl, making her giggle gently.  
  
"You would." Clint snorted.  
  
Evelyn smiled before looking at her wrist and trying to lift it off of the box rest for the first time in thirty minutes.  "How debilitating is this going to be?" She winced as she turned it over, rotating her lower arm to look at the bandage work.  
  
"Well, it's mild so it should only take a few days to improve. You can't chop any firewood for a whole though."  
  
"That's fine I'm pretty sure you have enough to last you through till winter now, anyway."  
  
"You also really shouldn't be doing anything strenuous with it. So no time in the barn this week. Is there anything else important you're doing this week?" Clint smiled at the pout at the mention of no barn.  
  
"Other than a college interview on Thursday morning and that party on Saturday? Not much." Evelyn put her head in her left hand, sighing a long breath.  
  
Clint nodded, then grinned. "You're coming to the party?"  
  
Evelyn looked at him through her fingers, mumbling, "I'm still slightly undecided."  
  
" _'Slightly undecided',_  yeah right. She's coming." The redhead nodded.  
  
"Well, if you say that I am, I must be. There's no arguing with you, I've learned." Evie let her hand drop to her lap, sitting back in her chair with a declaring smile.  
  
"Yeah, its good to learn that quickly with Nat." Clint nodded, then winced an "Ow." as the female agent clipped him upside the head for that one. He rolled his eyes, rubbing the light sting away. "It should be better by Saturday. Or at least good enough to properly hold a drinking glass."  
  
"That's good. Not that I'm planning on drinking much." Evie shrugged.  
  
There was another pause in the conversation.   
  
"Why didn't you guys stop me?" Evelyn spoke up, questioning. The agents looked at her. "I broke Jake's nose, probably bruised Ethan's stomach and I was ready to do worse to Jen if she came near me like the others did. So... why didn't you stop me? And don't give me the 'they swung first so it's self-defence' bullshit, please? You could have shut that fight down without even blinking if you wanted to, I know you could have. =I told you both to go and leave me to it. But you stayed and you both let it happen, you barely moved until they were all running away from me." The teen shrugged cluelessly at the two of them.  
  
"If we had, there would have been a lot more trouble. For you and us. Partly for the same reason I told you the stuff about SHIELD when you discovered the truth in the barn, they would have sparked problems that required cover-up and a lot of paperwork I couldn't be bothered with." Clint rubbed his hands over his face and through his hair before stretching out with an exaggerated yawn. Evie chuckled. "And I have a feeling now they aren't going to be messing around with you anymore after that display."  
  
"Either that or next time they'll come with reinforcements. Or get lucky that you're not around to cause a distraction." Evie went to cross her arms before hissing at the pain and resting her arm back on the elevated box. "They'll probably show up at my apartment, again, ready to ambush me. More threatening and insulting notes again. Yay."  
  
"Notes? Showing up at your apartment 'again'? Evelyn, how serious is this?" Barton questioned, slightly harshly. The girl didn't respond, unsure of how to. Clint crossed his arms over the table. "I'm driving you home, today."  
  
"Clint..."  
  
"Nope. You've got no choice. I'm driving you home today. No, in fact, I'm driving you home every day this week that you're here. Not that I doubt you can hold your own with your left hand too, but it might be a little more difficult with a sprained wrist this time." The archer nodded, deciding. Evie whined a long note, dropping her head on her uninjured arm and scuffing a shoe against the tiled floor. "What?" Clint raised an eyebrow.  
  
"Stop being so nice to meeee." She continued to whine, causing both adults to smile.  
  
"Not a chance."  
  
"We should probably tell your grandparents about-"  
  
"No!" Evie's head shot up to send pleading eyes to the redhead, cut off mid-sentence. Natasha leaned back a little at the sudden movement, blinking.  
  
"Alright, alright. Let me walk you home this week, and I promise they won't find out, okay?" Clint clicked his fingers to get her attention back on him. She took a second to take her eyes off Nat to look at him instead. "Deal?" He asked again.  
  
Evelyn sighed, seeing not much choice in the matter. "Deal." She agreed begrudgingly.  
  
Clint smiled, tapping the table and standing up. "Right. Let's see if we have any ice-cream left."  
  
  
The rest of the day up until 4pm was spent together chilling out with ice-cream and watching the TV or wandering around the farm and house. Well, Natasha and Clint actually spent most of their time telling Evelyn to stop moving around which Evie, because she was an eloquent idiot, continuously refused, telling them 'she was fine' while her gritted teeth and pained expression indicated otherwise. Eventually, it led to Nat and Clint turning into an old bickering couple while Evelyn was the acting whiny teenager, ignoring their protests at every turn. It was only after a few threats about handcuffing her to the coffee table, and an actual flash of handcuffs by Clint when she attempted to call bluff that settled her down with a grumble and pout on the sofa to indulge Clint in one of his favourite soap operas.  
  
When it came time to go home, Natasha waved the two off as Evelyn and Clint headed to the car, chucking her backpack in the back and sliding into the passenger seat. Clint started the car and pulled out of the driveway, driving all too happily into the late afternoon traffic, making what should have been a ten-minute drive thirty minutes long, instead.  
  
"Here we are, then."  
  
"I don't have keys for the gate, sorry." Evie apologised as they pulled up outside on the pavement.  
  
"You keep saying 'sorry', but I don't think it means what you think it means."  
  
Evie raised an eyebrow. "Did you just quote Princess Bride to me?" She asked, flatly. Barton chuckled with a grin at her. Evelyn rolled her eyes and moved to get out, awkwardly, using her left hand.  
  
"Oh, this is yours, I believe." Barton reached into the back seat to grab something and dropped it into her lap. After a second of wondering what fuzzy hell was to her lap, she picked it up and huffed.  
  
"The teddy from the ball toss."  
  
Clint nodded. "Found it in the mud at the fair. Might not have found you in time if not for that. Gave it a little clean up in the washing machine." Evie stared at it for a few moments, sucking in her bottom lip. "You don't like it?"  
  
"No. I do. Just wondering where to put it in my room." She put on a smile.  
  
"You're allowed to have fun sometimes, you know. You're still a kid. You can get up to some stupid shit if you want to." Clint told her, and she dropped the faked smile, not wanting to insult his intelligence when he'd just basically called her out.  
  
"Yes, well, you tend to get up to the same stupid shit you want me to. What does that say about you?" The teenager smirked at him and his hands gripped the steering wheel a little.  
  
"Get your ass out of my car."  
  
Evie laughed, nudging the door with her shoulder. "Alright, alright, I'm going." She managed to get herself out of the car, the windows down due to the summer heat, and shut the door, pulling out her backpack from the backseat and ready to head upstairs. Then she stopped, turning to Clint putting the car in reverse. "Walk me up?"  
  
Clint agreed, putting the car in park again and walking her to the door, Evelyn buzzing them both in and leading him up the stairs all the way to the top floor before coming to a stop outside the door.  
  
"Right. That's me." Evie took out her keys, having to try a few times with her left hand before finally getting it into the door.  
  
"You know when all this is over, the summer job and everything and you're moving on, hopefully to college?" Clint caught her before she headed in.  
  
She looked back. "Yeah?"  
  
Clint hesitated for a second before speaking. "Don't be a stranger, yeah?" He suggested, sliding his hands in his pockets. Evie watched him, leaning on the door. "You can keep my number in my phone as long as you like. The end of the summer doesn't mean we can't talk anymore. Feel free to call or text. Even if its just pictures of you babysitting again or you wanna share a dad joke with me I can annoy Tasha with."  
  
The girl nodded, doing a left-handed salute. "Sure, Hawkeye."  
  
"Hey, keep using my codename to try and annoy me and I will think of one for you."  
  
"What? Getting bored of Little Miss Fix-It, finally?"  
  
"Not just yet. But that's too long. I'll have to think of something else. Nat will most likely have some ideas." The archer crossed his arms along with the threat. Evelyn groaned, turning to rest her head against the door. Clint chuckled, patting her shoulder gently, and noticed how Evelyn barely flinched at the contact. "Goodnight, Evelyn."  
  
"Night, Clint." She mumbled against the door. Barton smiled, heading to the stairs and heading back down to his car. Evie lifted her head off the door before jogging to the stair bannister. "Clint?" She called, causing the archer to glance up, halfway down the first set. She smiled softly. "Thanks."  
  
Clint grinned and saluted her with a wave. "Night, kid."  
  
Evie nodded, heading back to her apartment, pushing open the door and nearly sliding on her ass at the piece of paper waiting there for her. Closing and locking the door, she bent down and picked up the paper, ready for a bomb of glitter to explode.  
  
And it did. Purple shimmering glitter fell out and she rolled her eyes but paused as she read the words scrawled out in a rush on the paper.  
  
 _'Dear hermit,_  
  
We aren't bothering with you anymore. Not that anyone these days does anyway. You're a piece of throw-away trash that will probably end up in jail before you're twenty. And if we ever catch you hanging around where you know you shouldn't be, like we know you do, don't expect us to be as polite this time. I can tell you, you won't be breaking anything but your own bones this time.  
  
Oh, and your weird friends, police, bodyguards, whoever they were can fuck off as well. You're lucky we aren't reporting you all and charging you for breaking my nose. Not that you'd have much to give anyway, you fucking tramp.  
  
Hope you're happy, you mental bitch.'  
  
Evie felt a smile pulling at her lips regardless of the hateful words. One problem scraped off the plate of madness that was her life. She snapped a picture of the note and sent it to Clint, who sent back a question asking if she wanted to report it to the police. Evelyn said no, instead folding the note and putting it on top of the bin lid where she could decide whether to just trash it or possibly set it on fire. Whatever she felt like tomorrow.  
  
And after she swept up that damn glitter pile again.


	25. Harley

**Two days later - Thursday - 8am**  
Waking up with no nightmares for once was a good start to the day. Just waking up a massive pain in the wrist was the only thing to put a dampener on my mood. And for someone who usually sleeps on their right side with their arm pillowing their head, trying my best not to instinctively do that when falling asleep was a challenge.  
  
But otherwise, the morning was good. I got up, showered, made toast that I didn't drop on the floor and ate both slices of, grabbed my backpack and headed out of the apartment with a smile on my face.  
  
"Morning, Evelyn."  
  
"Morning Darren." I locked the apartment door, waving to him and adjusting my backpack with my free hand. Maybe wearing it on the left side would have been a better idea but, pfft, since when was I ever smart?  
  
When I turned, the teaching assistant was smiling. "You used my name for once without me having to tell you." He grinned at me.  
  
I paused, backtracking as I realised yes I did. "Suppose so." I smiled, shrugging. Darren seemed to pause for a moment, studying me. I briefly wondered where Macy was considering she was usually the first one out of the apartment.  
  
"You're... you're looking better this morning." He came out with.  
  
"Hm?"  
  
"You look happy. Better than you've been in a while if you don't mind my saying." He nodded gently at me.  
  
I chuckled. "Well, not too much, hm?" I questioned, lifting my bandaged arm into view.  
  
"Oh, wow. What happened?" He furrowed his brow.  
  
"Well, you should be happy about this. My bullies won't be bothering me anymore." I smiled happily at him, almost excited from the actual reality of it hitting me properly.  
  
His eyes bulged. "Oh my god, what did you do?"  
  
"Nothing... much..." I waved my free arm, quickly. The man stared at me, unimpressed. "I promise its probably not as bad as you're thinking. And I've just sprained it, I swear." The door to his apartment opened again, and the auburn-haired cinnamon roll hopped out, uniform and flowery sunhat and all. "Hey, Mace." I waved before being practically tackle-hugged into my own door, wincing. "Macy, Macy, easy. I'm injured. I'm getting old."  
  
She pouted, looking at my arm. "Aw. What did you do to it?"  
  
"I sprained it yesterday."  
  
"Can I sign it?" Mace grinned giddily, starting to bounce on her feet.  
  
"It's not a cast, sweetheart. I'm sorry." I ruffled her short hair or what parts of it I could reach under the sunhat.  
  
"Where are you heading?" Darren asked, beckoning Macy back over who soon released me from her captive hold.  
  
"Out for an interview. It's a college a little way away from here so I have to head out early to catch the bus." I smiled before bending down to Macy's height, looking under the hat's brim so I could see her crystal eyes. "Have you got suncream on?"  
  
"Have you?" Darren followed up as Macy nodded.  
  
I paused, biting my lip guiltily. "Um..."  
  
Darren pointed a finger at the apartment door. "Back in. Suncream on. And a hat, if you please."  
  
"Uuuuugh."  
  
  
  
"So, how did your interview go then?  _Key-activated component. 7 letters. Ends with 'R'._ "   
  
" _Starter._  And it wasn't too bad, I hope. I don't remember screwing up at any major points, though my left-hand handshake might need some work." I answered, listening to the pencil scratch against the paper as Clint scribbled my answer into the crossword answer boxes.  
  
"Hope and pray, hope and pray.  _Helical fastener formation. 6 letters, first letter 'T', third letter 'R'._ " Clint replied, tapping the rubber end of the pencil against his lip, shifting against the arm of the garden bench.  
  
" _Thread._ They didn't look at my application and immediately write me off so that's good." I gave a thumbs up and he wrote with a hum.  
  
"I would be happy to write you a recommendation if you asked.  _Electrical system safety valve. 4 letters-_ "  
  
" _Fuse._ And as much as I would love at least one reference other than my grandparents, I don't think you should use your police persona only to get me into college, thanks. Its caused enough trouble already." I chuckled, crossing my arms with just the slightest bit of pain.  
  
"Fair point. Aaaaaand done." Clint turned around the page to show all the boxes of this crossword filled and matching up. "Well done." The archer nodded.  
  
"I try."  
  
"Another one?" He turned the page, looking at the next one.  
  
I shook my head, face scrunching. "I'm getting bored. There's only so much you can have of a good thing."  
  
"Alright then." Clint stuck the pencil between the pages, folding it and handing it back over. I slid it into my backpack and sat back on the bench.  
  
The thing about being on a farm is that most of the stuff you end up doing is manual work. And when you have one out-of-action hand, especially when it's your dominant one, that severely limits your options.   
  
"I have some books upstairs you could read if you wanted?" Clint suggested, sitting cross-legged across the bench. I shook my head. I may or may not have stopped around upstairs and already knew none of the books he had would take my interest. "TV?" I shook my head again. We'd already pretty much exhausted that one yesterday watching Clint's favourite show's newest season. Admittedly, he had good taste.  
  
Clint stood, suddenly. Without a word, he jogged out of the hidden garden and out of sight completely. I blinked, making faces to myself like I was on a reality TV show and meant to look baffled for an audience, before a few moments later, rustling grass and footsteps on the path reannounced Clint's presence.  
  
He poked his head out from around the long hedge push arch. "Have you ever fixed a tractor before, Evelyn?" He raised an eyebrow.  
  
I shook my head. "Can't say I have."  
  
"Wanna have a go?" The glint in his eyes was mischevious, and that had become a sight that I knew not to trust completely. But fuck it. I was bored, and we all know what happens when I get bored.  
  
"Sounds fun."  
  
  
Sitting on top of two stacked hay bales, I wondered whether Clint had ever considered getting horses or something. There was certainly the space for them, and I had seen other houses up the road who housed a few mares. I could imagine him as a rider. And since he had a competitive streak, I could see him in a few competitions. Which one would he be good at, though?  
  
Dressage probably.  
  
I made myself laugh with that one. Clint squinted over his shoulder at me, opening the side of the tractor, and I just shrugged.  
  
"Now, you can't fix it by hand, at least not today. But you can look and direct." He narrated, walking around the side and kicking away parts scattered on the floor before he tripped.  
  
"Cliiiiiint," I whined, pouting.  
  
"Yeeeees?" He whined back at me in the same tone.  
  
I kicked the air. "You're torturing meeeee."  
  
"You're injuuured." He responded and crossed his arms. I huffed and crossed my own, mentally cursing myself when I did so. He was wearing his 'don't challenge me' expression, something I imagined he scared the smaller agents of SHIELD with, but I wasn't giving in to that... well... okay, maybe I looked away. "I promise. If you're all good by next week, I will personally take it all apart just so you can have a go at fixing it properly. For now, just let me talk you through it." He unfolded his arms, taking to sliding his hands in his jean pockets.  
  
I scowled, still, staring at the far wall and not caring at all about how childish I looked. "Not fair," I grumbled.  
  
"Pleeeeease?" He stepped around so he was in my line of sight, a gentle and persuasive smile on his face. It was incredibly unfair how much he could change my mood with a simple smile and a certain vocal tone. Fucking spies.  
  
"Ugh, fiiiiine."  
  
So, Clint went on to explain the inner machinations of the tractor. He took it apart piece by piece until all the working cogs and pipes that he could afford to remove without really screwing something up inside were removed. Then he tried putting it all back together. It was going smoothly until he couldn't find a certain cog and spent five minutes looking for it in the hay on the floor, and an additional five minutes were spent scratching his head before realising I was actually holding it.   
  
Whoops.  
  
Taking the cog and finishing reconstructing the engine, he finally shut the side and picked up a rag, wiping his hands.  
  
"And that was Bessie. Thank you, and leave your donations for our next show by the door on the way out, please." Clint chuckled, sticking the cloth in his back pocket once his hands were clean.  
  
"Please tell me you didn't actually name that thing."  
  
"Shhhh." Clint put both hands on the chipping forest green paint of the main body. "You'll hurt her feelings."  
  
I gave him a flat look. "That thing has feelings?"  
  
Clint gasped dramatically, looking halfway to traumatised by my question. "Evelyn. I am surprised at you. An almost-mechanic such as yourself would be expected to have more manners for the engines you're working with."  
  
"Almost-mechanic, huh? Sure, that's what I am. Or at least that's what I hoped to be growing up and what I was good at."  
  
The archer leaned against the tractor, arms folding. "You grew up with engines, hm?"  
  
"There was the family car, obviously. My grandfather is the only one of the family that currently drives." I answered, legs swinging gently as I didn't touch the floor from two hay bales up. "My granddad actually used to own a Harley in the shed that I would work on, sometimes," I added, softly.  
  
"A Harley? Nice."  
  
"They're a bitch to maintain, I learned. As much as I loved that thing." I rested my chin on my hand, elbow on knee, thinking back on it.  
  
Clint seemed to pick up on the past tense. "What happened to it?"  
  
"Stolen," I answered shortly, "He promised it would be mine after I was old enough to drive, if I'm remembering correctly."  
  
"Not when you had your licence?"  
  
"Shush." I waved him off, dismissing his pedantic nature. "Yeah. Stolen. We reported it but that was three years ago and we haven't seen it since. I have a sneaking suspicion of who took it but that might just be me being presumptuous and jumping to conclusions." I ignored the thoughts of Jake and the others. It wasn't the best neighbourhood at the best of times so I had to give the benefit of the doubt that it wasn't them. "When I was younger, I used to love the idea of riding that thing, being able to fix it myself, just be a person who didn't have to 'stay here' or 'go there' or listen to anyone but herself." A smile spread on my lips, then disappeared. "But, other things happened. And family and plans for my future keep me here. Not that that's a bad thing. After all, how far can I get if I can't get past a high-school education level? Or at least that's what adults are always saying to me."  
  
Clint stayed quiet for a long while, and I didn't really have more to say on the subject.  
  
"Sorry, I'm getting all depressing." I sat up, wiping my palms on my thighs.  
  
"I swear, I'm gonna put a ban on that word in this house." The agent threatened me.  
  
"Technically, we're in the garage."  
  
"On this farm, then." He pushed himself off the tractor to level with me.  
  
I smirked, smugly, jumping off the hay bales and standing a pace in front of him. "Alright. I hope wholeheartedly that for all my ramblings towards you, good sir, that you can even consider accepting my sincerest apologies on the subject." I bent forward at the waist, doing my best to appear as gentlemanly as I could manage before peeking up at Clint, still bowing.  
  
"Smartass."  
  
"You know you love it."


	26. Keys

**The next day - Friday - Week 5**  
 _"Happy Birthday, Evie. We hope to see you later this week or if not, next Wednesday to give you your gift and card."_  
  
"You don't need to-"  
  
 _"Don't you start that, Evelyn. We will always get you a card and a gift on your birthday, just as you do with both of us. Your granddad will be making his special lemon drizzle cake on Wednesday, if that makes any difference to you."_  
  
"Alright, alright. I'll come and visit, I promise. And I swear it's not just for the cake."  
  
 _"Of course it's not, sweetheart. Happy Birthday, Evelyn. We love you."_  
  
My morning was mainly spent talking to grandma, having a shower, dressing in... well... normal clothes since it wasn't really an occasion I felt like dressing up for, rebandaging my wrist which didn't hurt nearly as much as it had earlier that week, and packing my backpack when a headache started settling in the back of my head.  
  
And my own personal 'Happy Birthday' choir singing at my door when I opened it this morning to rapid knocking didn't help. Then a cake was unceremoniously pushed into my hands with shaky lettering of  _'Evierlyns 19th'_ written in blue icing on top of an unevenly chocolate-frosted circular cake wrapped in clingfilm.  
  
"It was made from a cake mix and I was closely supervising. There shouldn't be any chance of salmonella with this one." Darren promised quietly with a thumbs up before rushing after his child who had heard Clarissa's bark from downstairs.  
  
Which led to me taking the thing to Clint's, awkwardly carrying it the whole walk to his house and feeling slightly self-conscious about the fact I was carrying my own birthday cake but I managed fairly well. Hopping with the grace of a one-flippered walrus over the fence gate and having Lucky bark while running circles around me, I headed inside yelling out for the archer who called back from the kitchen.  
  
"Happy Birthday, Evie," He greeted as soon as I entered, holding his hands ever so slightly suspiciously behind his back, as Lucky happily followed me close behind. I smiled regardless of how much I didn't want to and finally dropped the cake down onto the island counter. Clint furrowed his brow as he read the smushed writing on top. " _'Evierlyn'_?"   
  
"Long story."  
  
Clint hummed, bringing his hands around. "Kinda puts mine to shame, now." He showed me a little cupcake between his palms, pink frosting and googly eyes and [everything](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/8e/d2/7e/8ed27e83b2caa296f83c317ec7e9bc59.jpg). Reminded me of a videogame I used to like playing.  
  
I folded my arms. "You remember I told you to  _forget_ that it was my birthday today?"  
  
"You're the one who brought a whole cake."  
  
"It's from a neighbour, and it was either going to go to waste in the bin or I would eat the whole thing at once and throw up afterwards," I explained, arms folding over my stomach as I recalled a past birthday I never wanted to remember. Clint shared a knowing smile, putting his cupcake down on the counter and yes, I had to admit, it was a sweet gesture, cake pun completely intended.  
  
"Why do you not like birthdays?" Barton questioned as I leaned on my uninjured arm on the counter. I blinked, staring at him. "I'll back right off if you don't wanna talk about it. Just say the word." He held up his hands, probably flashbacking to the fair.  
  
I decided to give in. "It just never seemed important in the past, you know?" I shrugged, "Sure, when I was like five or six it was fun but as I got to thirteen and fourteen it just started seeming like an 'oh, okay, great' thing and then everything moved on as normal. My grandparents always give me a card and a gift, even though I tell them its unnecessary, and they've always attempted to try and make me feel happy and celebratory when I turn a year older but I just get more and more... miserable every time it comes up." My head dropped into my hands, fingers carding through my hair with a long breath. I looked up at the archer watching me. "Does it feel like that when you're an adult, Clint?"  
  
Clint's expression caught itself between a few emotions, most I couldn't describe before they disappeared and ultimately decided on a passive appearance. "Sometimes it can. It depends on the year, and what's happening around you. I've had times where I felt exactly like you describe, and then others I couldn't be happier its that one day of the year." He seemed to be recalling his own birthdays, and by the small snippets of things I'd heard him and Nat discussing, as much as they'd attempted to cover it by talking in 'code', I could tell most weren't pretty. "But, your grandparents seem to have the right idea about celebrating. It's your day, you should feel special. You should be doing what makes you happy. Come on, Evie. What makes you happy?" He nudged my shoulder and I gave a wry smile.  
  
"Just being here and having someone to talk to makes me happy. Sappy as it sounds." I tilted my head, leaning on my left arm. "You know Darren said to me the other morning that I was looking better. That I was looking happy, and better than I've been in a long while."    
  
"I would like to think that's down to my awesomeness influencing your life but I'm not so arrogant as to believe it completely."  
  
"Sure you're not." I rolled my eyes.  
  
"Easy, missus." Clint teased and I chuckled softly.  
  
It fell silent between us for a few seconds, the only noise really Lucky's tail thumping against the kitchen tiles.  
  
"Are you still coming tomorrow?" Clint asked as he walked around to the cupboard behind me.  
  
"Oh, I forgot about that." I chewed my lip. He pulled out coffee grounds and hot chocolate mix. "Um... yeah? I mean, I'm not doing anything else and stuff..." I shrugged softly, eyes going to the golden dog lying beside my leg and getting hair on my jeans.  
  
The agent put the two containers in front of me on the counter. "Whatever you're thinking now, stop. I  _want_ you to be there. Nat and I both do." He insisted, even waving his hand to get my attention back on his face. I peeled my eyes away from the dog to look at him. I hated his ability to be able to mask any other emotions he was feeling and just push the ones he thought I wanted to see to the surface instead.  
  
"Where even is this thing?" I asked, ignoring my own thoughts.  
  
Clint filled the kettle. "There's a bar in the city, The Woeful Widow, that's been cleared out for Saturday night and watched by SHIELD Security. I can drive you if you'd like, and then at the end of the night or if you wanna leave early tell me and I'll drive you home. I'm not going to be drinking, and if I do accidentally, I'll grab us a cab. Kay?"  
  
"How can you drink 'accidentally'?" I raised an eyebrow.  
  
He paused as he was reaching for two clean mugs. "Uh, I may or may not be half the reason we aren't having the party in SHIELD HQ this year?"  
  
I looked confused. "Natasha said it was down to some Level 7 agents doing unnamed stuff on the spiked punch."  
  
"Yeah, she would say that. Because she's the  _other half_ of the reason it's not in HQ this year."  
  
  
 **Saturday - 5:45pm - 3rd Person POV**  
What do you wear to a graduation party? Especially one for a place you've never stepped foot inside of or know basically anything about? Hell if Evelyn knew. She hadn't even been invited to her own school prom due to reputation. Not that she really cared, it usually ended up being a crap shoot anyway according to stories from other people.  
  
So, she pulled out one of the very few [dresses ](https://di2ponv0v5otw.cloudfront.net/posts/2018/02/25/5a931db931a37671040cc157/m_5a931deb3a112eb8f8879e8b.jpg)she owned and just hoped it was okay. Paired with a set of combat boots because heels can fuck off and she was pretty tall anyway. Plus, she just liked that kind of aesthetic of black and leather. Not that she'd explored it, it was a pleasure she couldn't really afford to indulge.  
  
Heading to Clint's later in the evening felt like it did when Evie didn't know who he was, coming home from school to kick in his porch door. Hopping over the fence gate and for once Lucky wasn't outside to nip at her feet, but the front door was still open and so she moved inside.  
  
"Hey, Nat." Evie waved at the redhead upon seeing her touching up her lipstick on the couch. She looked up from her compact and smiled.  
  
"Hey." She stood, showing her full outfit, a few inches from her shoes, and her beautiful [smokey grey dress](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/e4/84/c6/e484c6fc250ccccaf0634e471a293c91.jpg) just touching her knee. Evie readjusted her bag over her shoulder, catching her bandage on it. "You could probably take that off now. Come here." Romanoff put her lipstick and mirror away, beckoning Evie over as she began removing the bandage wrap. The girl soon pulled it off completely, dropping it to the table, and the agent took her hand in both of hers, inspecting the damage.  
  
Evelyn's knuckles were patterned with the remnants of bruises but everything else was okay.  
  
"Move it around for me?" Natasha released the hand and Evie rotated her wrist in her vision.  
  
"Feels okay," The teen added with a nod.  
  
"You probably shouldn't do much heavy lifting until you build your strength back up, just in case. Holding a drinking glass though should be excellent practise." Nat grinned softly.   
  
The brunette chuckled and looked around. "Where's Clint?"  
  
"Upstairs trying to work out which blazer isn't one that makes him look like a box." Nat sat back down, crossing her legs. Evelyn had to admit to herself the older female was incredibly beautiful and smart, and that's probably why she was codenamed Black Widow.  
  
 _Eyes off, Evelyn. That's a spiders web set up for a much older and more experienced player._  
  
“Take his keys up for me before he forgets the damn things?" She tossed the girl a set of keys, Evie nodding and heading upstairs towards Clint's room, the door already halfway open and a light on inside.  
  
"Clint?" Evelyn pushed the door fully open, calling out to him. His back was turned to her, wearing a blazer jacket and shifting it around to test the fit. Evie slowly walked closer. "Clint, you okay?" She asked again, receiving no response from the distracted archer who had somehow seemed to not have heard her. She tapped his shoulder. "Cli-!"  
  
The air was slammed out of the girl as her back hit the wall, a hand pressing on her windpipe. Evie grabbed at it on instinct, narrowly missing the edge of the blade that glinted in her peripherals. Clint was staring the teen down, eyes assessing her person before the realisation passed over his face.  
  
Evelyn was staring at him, wide eyes and breathing hard as she struggled to get his hand off her throat. But Clint was too frozen up in fear of what he'd just done, and to who, to think straight or even consider moving his body.  
  
The girl said something, but without his hearing aids, he only saw her lips moving. "What?" The agent asked, loud. Evie repeated whatever it was, and Clint cursed himself for not studying Evelyn's lip patterns like he had Natasha's. " _What?_ " Evie repeated the sentence. Same result. "What?!" He yelled in her face as if it would make a difference. Evelyn began repeating, then paused, face dropping to a flat expression before he saw her hand raising and her middle finger sticking up at him.  
  
Right. Well. He understood that message.  
  
"I am so sorry." He told her, still frozen in place. She shook her head dismissively, as if he wasn't just crushing her windpipe and threatening her with a knife, and kept calm as she held up his car keys in her palm. It seemed to be enough to get Clint to unfreeze, shaking his head and taking a step back, hands leaving the teen's body, dropping the knife to the floor. He felt the vibration as it hit the floor, but not the sound.  
  
Evie was still holding out his keys, waiting. The archer slowly, slowly, reached out to take them from her hand. And as soon as they did, Evie gestured to the door and all but sprinted out of it, leaving Clint alone to mull over what just happened.  
  
Evelyn shut the door behind her, breathing heavily and taking a few deep breaths in before nodding to herself and as calmly as she could walk to the stairs.  
  
"You alright? You look paler than the bathroom walls." Natasha teased, watching her walk down the remaining few steps.  
  
A weak laugh.  
  
"Oh nothing, he just... didn't hear me come in." Evie shrugged it off.  
  
Natasha narrowed her eyes, studying the girl properly. "Aaaaaaand?"  
  
Evie sucked in her lower lip, glancing up the stairs before back at the assassin, then down at her feet. "He, um, nearly slit my throat with a knife," The girl mumbled at her shoes.  
  
Dead silence.  
  
"Clint!"  
  
"He won't hear you." Evie held out her hands to try and stop the particularly disgruntled looking SHIELD agent from going and ripping Barton a new one.  
  
"Then I'll speak his language." Natasha made a few angry hand gestures before approaching the smaller female blocking the stairs.  
  
"Its really not his fault, Nat. I kinda jumpscared him."   
  
"He should still know better."  
  
"Should he?" Evie raised an eyebrow, face scrunching a little. Natasha stared, mildly confused. "From what I've gathered from you two about field work and experience..." The girl didn't finish, but Nat could gather what she must have overheard from the two of them at some point. Or what Clint had blabbed at her.  
  
"It still shouldn't have happened."  
  
"Not that you of all people really need telling this, but go easy on the guy." Evie insisted feebly.  
  
The door to the bedroom clicked audibly open. Evie and Natasha both moved out of the way of the stairs as Clint slowly stepped down, coming to a stop at the bottom, hands fidgeting with his ears. "Right, I can hear you both now." He dropped his hands and his eyes.  
  
Quiet.  
  
"I mean, fucking hell, Clint, I nearly shit in my dress," Evie said slightly breathlessly, but with the hint of a chuckle to try to make it less awkward.  
  
"I'm sorry." Barton shook his head.  
  
"It's okay."  
  
"It's not." Natasha butted in.  
  
Clint nodded, agreeing. "Its really not. I'm not usually that jumpy." He looked uncomfortable, shifty. The man was clearly unused to the feeling inside him. Unease.  
  
"I didn't exactly give you much warning coming into the room. I probably should have noticed by the second time calling your name that you couldn't hear me." Evie admitted softly before looking back at him, eyes cheeky, "And now this would be the second time you tried to kill me."  
  
"I didn't try to kill you!" Clint shouted loudly at her, causing the girl to flinch.  
  
The teen's brow drew together as Barton swallowed, eyes flashing guiltily. "Hey." She held up her hands, pacifying. "Easy, man. It fine." She very carefully reached out to put one hand on his shoulder, petting it almost. "It's alright. Its natural reflex for an agent like you, right? You can't expect everyone around you to be a friendly, especially when you didn't know there were there in the first place."  
  
The archer shook his head again. "I scared you. I'm sorry."  
  
"Do I have to ban that word in this house, Mr Barton?" Evie scrunched her lips, hands going to her hips and bending forward slightly, wagging a finger condescendingly. Clint looked at her, guilt still clear as day in his expression. But his lips twitched upwards, even just for a second, at the familiar joke. Evie sighed, straightening out. "It's fine. Honestly, Clint. After the number of freak-outs I've had with you, its just fair play that you have one on me."  
  
"Yes, but-"  
  
"-yes but nothing. Don't you start that shit or I will walk straight out that door right now, regardless of how scary Natasha or her glare is." The teen's arms folded.  
  
"I'm scary to you?" Romanoff raised a thin eyebrow.  
  
"Scary in a good way." Evie nodded.  
  
The redhead's eyes narrowed, daringly. "How can I be scary in a 'good way'?"  
  
Quickly realising the mistake, Evie started rambling. "I mean you're scarily commanding. Not that you're bossy or anything but you're, you know, you have a very strict demeanour. Not that you're not fun or whatever but you're very severe when you're glaring at people such as like right now, at me. And, uh, I think, uh I- I- I- I- I don't know what I think. Clint, help. Please. I beg you." She whimpered, looking at the second adult who just shook his head, a grin spreading across his lips.  
  
"Alright, ease off Nat. We've had a rough enough start to the evening as is." His blue eyes flickered between the two females, both of whom nodded in agreement.  
  
Barton nodded, grabbing his jacket off the sofa back and pulling out his keys, jingling them in indication and gesturing towards the door, the tension from a few seconds before slowly dissipating. "Right. Everybody in the car."


	27. Drink

**3rd Person POV - That night**  
The drive to The Woeful Widow wasn't too long, about an hour's drive from Clint's house. With the archer driving, the assassin in the passenger seat, and the teenager in the back, all three spent most of the drive either arguing over the choice of car music

_"I'm the driver so I pick the music."_

_"Can you at least pick something else other than songs that everyone's heard a thousand times?"_

_"They're all classics."_

_"Yeah, all classic pieces of shit."_  
  
or otherwise small talk about nonsense stuff to be forgotten within five minutes of talking about it.  
  
Soon enough, the trio pulled up in the car park and clambered out of the car, heading towards the pub that was already buzzing with nightlife.  
  
Reaching the door, Evie spotted the large, gruff man standing guard. Dressed in a black shirt and cargo pants, looking like he could break a brick on his forehead, he watched them approach the doorway. And there was something in his eyes that seemed shifty as he checked the invitations Barton handed over, and glared at Evelyn for a moment, before nodding and letting them inside.   
  
"That guy gives me the creeps," Evie mumbled once they were out of earshot.  
  
"Brock Rumlow. He's the head of the Mission STRIKE Team." Clint narrated.  
  
"Clint."  
  
"What? It's not one of the worst things I could tell her about us." The archer shrugged at the assassin, who rolled her eyes.  
  
"Just watch it. We're at a party literally for SHIELD and its members. This is one step away from just taking her to the closest Headquarters."  
  
"Well, not really, I mean even if its a graduation party for SHIELD, no one's really going to be talking about the organisation, are they? They'll be talking about what they're drinking and who's driving everyone home afterwards. Either that or guessing and betting who's going to pick a fight first." Evelyn countered as they walked further in, having to raise their volume in order to be heard over the pulsing music and people quickly surrounding them.  
  
Clint gestured to the bar. "Drinks, then."  
  
  
Natasha may have actually had a point before. It would be surprisingly easy  _-minus Rock Rum-Blow at the door or whatever his name was-_ for someone to just pick up all sorts of things the way people were talking. Evelyn thought this was supposed to be an underground organisation and yet she had already overheard enough 'secrets' to fill an A4 page. Not that she'd really know what to do any of them after writing them down.... tease Clint about it and blackmail him into letting her eat more ice-cream during the day? That would be most likely. Though Clint shouldn't really complain about that since she would be eating more.  
  
Speaking of the archer, a quick glance to the side revealed he was no longer standing where Evie last thought he was. The trio had stuck together after getting drinks, Clint has grabbed a whiskey, Natasha held a glass of champagne, and Evie had stuck with a mocktail of some sort with a berry aftertaste. But now as the teenager turned in a circle, she was unable to spot the brunet, but the redhead was only a few steps away, conversing with a few other SHIELD members that Evie, of course, didn't recognise.  
  
The girl began to feel uncomfortable in her stomach. She was standing on her own in the middle of a party she shouldn't be at with the two people she came there with either gone or doing their own thing, and not feeling like she really should be there. Even the songs playing over the speakers she knew every single word to after belting them out in the shower on her previous home alone nights made her want to dance or sing or just try and enjoy herself.  
  
Her heart rate started speeding up, as did her breathing, as she attempted to swallow the sensation in her throat down by finishing off her drink with quick gulps. Unfortunately, much sooner than she wanted, she had run out of drink to drown herself with. Now she had to get another, or maybe she should just step outside for a second and catch the breath that seemed to be running away from her. Either way, Evelyn began to move in a direction, not sure whether it was the exit or bar, and dumped face first into someone's chest.  
  
"Excuse me."  
  
"Careful, madam, I nearly spilt my drink over you." The voice above her was low, stern, and with an underlying tone of natural command. Pausing and looking back at the man she'd bumped into, she instantly regretted doing so.  
  
"That's... fine." She mumbled, staring at the face of the one-eyed man she's run into, scanning over his body and taking in the long black trenchcoat he for some reason wore indoors. And the more Evie stared at the man, the more he stared back, and an emotion she couldn't quite distinguish passed over his features.  
  
"Nick Fury. Director." The man held out a hand to shake, practically radiating confidence.  
  
Evie hesitated for a second before going to shake his hand. "Evelyn Summers. Recent graduate." She lied and shook his hand with her recently healed one, so even she could feel the weakness in the shake.  
  
Footsteps behind Evelyn made her glance to see that the archer had finally come back from wherever he disappeared and abandoned her too. "Director. Nice to see you. I didn't know you were coming." He nodded at Fury before noticing the looks shared between the two. "Ah, this is Evelyn. She's one of the new interns."  
  
"Oh. She told me she was an agent."  
  
"I said graduate," Evelyn repeated calmly.  
  
A sour face in a tailored suit and sunglasses as a pocket square appeared at Fury's side. "Sir. I need to talk to you," The male said quietly but loud enough to be heard over the music.  
  
"Just a moment, Coulson. I'm just dealing with this situation right now." The Director gestured to Evie and Clint, standing there unsure.  
  
"Oh. Who's your friend, Barton?" Coulson folded his hands in front of him.  
  
"This is Evelyn. She's one of the working graduates here." Clint changed his story, glancing to whichever way would be the quickest to get out of this situation and get Evelyn out of there.  
  
Phil cut him off. "I don't recognise her." He announced clearly, fuelling the suspicion already felt.  
  
"Do you think you could show us your ID, Evelyn?"  
  
Evie swallowed, fakely searching through her purse before looking back up. "Uh... I don't have it on me?" She smiled an artificial smile.  
  
Nick hummed a long note, nodding slowly. "Oh, well that's fine. See, Agent Coulson has this nifty little thing here able to cross-reference fingerprints directly to our system." Fury turned to the younger agent and Coulson opened his jacket, revealing a high-tech looking device in his upper pocket. "And being a SHIELD registered member I'm sure you wouldn't mind if Agent Coulson scanned your fingerprint. You know, just to check the legibility of your status," He continued as Coulson put the device back in his pocket, hands folding once again, satisfied that would be enough.  
  
"Clint..." Evie swallowed, looking up at him, helplessly.  
  
The archer sighed. The game was up. In fact, it was probably up an hour ago. "Sir, it's my fault she's here."  
  
"What did I miss, already? I leave you two alone for a few minutes..." Natasha decided now would be the perfect time to make her entrance, finishing her champagne glass with a soft sip.  
  
"You brought an outsider into a SHIELD-sanctioned event without our signature?" Coulson's glare matched Fury's, the two staring at the trio in plain accusation.  
  
"'Outsider'?" Evie raised an eyebrow.  
  
Clint elbowed her side. "Yes, I brought her here."  
  
"Only because Clint told me about you."  
  
"Not everything about us, however." Clint hastily blurted.  
  
Evie nodded quickly. "Yeah, not everything about you. And it's really not his fault. He just told me because I found a bunch of fake ID's and passports in the barn that he probably should have put somewhere safer even though I was in his house and don't really have much ground to speak on. But that was also because I kicked in his front door a few times cause I was annoyed which made him show up at my school pretending to be a police officer with forged papers made by you guys in order to get my attention and return my phone, and I ended up working at his farm for the summer. From then on it was just seeing a SHIELD logo badge in the front of his car and then going into the barn where I'm wasn't supposed to go but, hey, since when do I ever make clever decisions, and went inside anyway. That's when I caught him with all that shit and he explained some stuff and showed me some documents about you that he said Coulson was going to kick his ass for or something so that I wouldn't go to the police."  
  
"Barton..."  
  
Evie continued blabbing, "He didn't tell me everything. Just that you were the good guys and a group of underground super spy people in a company that deals with threats to the world that the public is unaware of to maintain global security. He also said you deal with supernatural or otherworldly shit which, to be honest, I don't believe because I'm sceptic about paranormal stuff. Like, I won't even read Twilight. But he made me promise not to mention it to anyone or go to anyone with this information and honestly, who is going to believe me anyway? A group of underground super spy people in a company that deals with inhuman and paranormal occurrences that the public is unaware of? No thanks. People already believe the government are lizards, I don't think I need to throw anything else into the mix. Plus, I don't wanna get assassinated. So I said I wouldn't say anything, which I swear I won't. And then he decided he wanted to invite me here to the party and stuff so... now I'm here?"   
  
The pause that followed was horrible. With the pumping baseline of the music blaring from the speakers as the only background noise between the five, the quick thumping base seemed to mimic the trio's heartbeats perfectly.  
  
The looks Evie received from all four adults is what she could only describe as four lions who had been carefully tracking a gazelle and ready to pounce only to realise the gazelle was already dead. The four separate faces of Fury's frustration, Coulson's disappointment, Natasha's avoidance, and Clint's hoping he wasn't about to get his ass fired circled her like fresh prey.  
  
"You informed a member of the unknowing public about SHIELD development aims and secrets, without advising or consulting myself, Agent Coulson, or anyone above or below your station level for authorization?" Fury's tone was dangerously low.  
  
"I was caught, my cover had been discovered and there had been previous suspicions surrounding my position in SHIELD as well. I saw no other option but to compromise, Director."  
  
Fury's eye narrowed. "This is a pretty big thing to compromise on without approval, Barton."  
  
"I know, sir." Clint dropped his head to the floor, guiltily.  
  
"You know, sir." Fury mimicked, folding his arms.  
  
"It's really not his fault-" Evelyn attempted to try but the stare sent her way by Clint told her to shut the hell up and so she quickly cut herself off from making things worse.  
  
She really should have just said 'no' to Clint's invitation like she'd planned to.  
  
Coulson was the one to step in. "This conversation is not over. But it won't be discussed further, tonight." Fury glanced at his Agent. "Its the graduation, after all," He tried to remind the older man of the pulsing music and shining lights, as well as the fact they had all started gaining attention from other agents turning to see what the fuss was about.  
  
"Alright. You will all be contacted on behalf of the matter soon enough. But for now, this stays silent." The Director turned on his heel, stepping away. "Oh, and Miss Evelyn..." Fury glanced over his shoulder and the girl hummed, or more squeaked. "I've got my eye on you." Were his last word before disappearing into the crowd with Coulson fast on his heels, but not before glancing between Clint and Natasha equally suspicious, then soon vanished from sight.  
  
"He's gonna have my ass." Clint rubbed his face with one hand.  
  
"He's gonna have your  _head_." Evelyn corrected, wide-eyed at the space the two agents previously occupied, her stomach slowly melting from the icy feeling it had held for the last three minutes. "That guy scares me more than my fifth grade English teacher. And that's just the shorter one."  
  
"I think I'm going to get more champagne," Natasha announced gently before weaving her way through the sea of people around them towards the bar.  
  
Clint looked down into his half-empty glass, fingers tapping soundlessly on the glass. "You knew that you were pretty much throwing me under the bus for all that, didn't you? You didn't even mention Nat at any point - though I can guess why."  
  
"Ssssorry." Evie winced, apologetically.  
  
"I swear 'sorry' should just your catchphrase now, Evie."  
  
"What would yours be, then? 'Ow, my back?" Evelyn giggled gently to break the tension. Clint didn't seem to appreciate the effort, face flat. "Please don't hate me." She worried her bottom lip and the man rolled his eyes, patting her shoulder tenderly. Evie relaxed under the now-familiar touch. "What do you think's going to happen now?" She glanced back in the direction of Fury and Coulson's disappearance.  
  
"We'll find out soon enough. Until then..." Barton finished his drink in one gulp, eyes staring at the bottom of his empty glass. "...I'm gonna need a stronger drink."   
  
"I said I was sorry."


	28. Duct tape

**Clint's POV - The next morning - 7:35am**  
My brain had a heartbeat. It was a heavy thumping pulse and pain that made me tense up every two seconds, spreading through my head like a liquid at an angle the more I began to return to the land of the conscious. I felt like Nat was continually beating me over the head for saying something stupid, but with a heavily armoured glove on to make sure the lesson stuck.  
  
I moved my hand to the side of my head, trying to alleviate the pain, to discover there was something damp to the touch there. I opened my eyes, only to be met by a blinding light that made me involuntarily shut them again. The yellow glow on my eyelids suggested it was daytime coming in through a window.  
  
"You snore like my grandfather, you know." The voice was loud and clear in my ears, ringing almost deafeningly and making me wince.  
  
Cracking open my eyes again, I blinked to unblur my vision. "Evelyn?" The teenager was stood staring down at me from behind the sofa, eyebrow raised. "What are you- what are you doing here, still? We're supposed to be at the party." I grabbed the sofa arm, pulling myself up and instantly regretting it as nausea threatened to burn my throat.  
  
"Its Sunday morning, Clint." The girl responded.  
  
"It's..." I felt around in my jean pockets, eventually finding my phone and checking the time as 7:37am on Sunday. "Mmph. Too early for a hangover." I slumped back down onto the sofa cushions that had been cocooned around my head. There was blissful silence for a few moments. I cracked one eye open. "Where's Nat?"  
  
"She took your bed since we couldn't manage to get you past the couch."  
  
My brow furrowed. "Where did you sleep?"  
  
"Guest room." The hesitation before her answer and the way she seemed to be pretty awake at this point suggested she was lying, but I wasn't currently alert enough to know for certain.  
  
"Why aren't you at home?"  
  
"I don't know where my keys are."  
  
"Must be somewhere." I murmured, turning a little where I lay to get more comfortable. "Why are you looking at me like that?" I did a double take as I realised Evelyn was staring at me.  
  
"What do you remember from last night?" She tilted her head, squinting.  
  
"Uh..." I rubbed my face, my brain not enjoying thinking back. "We arrived at the bar, Rumlow was at the door and you said he was weird, we got drinks, I went for a piss, oh yeah Fury and Coulson found out about you knowing, we got more drinks, danced a little and..."  
  
I stopped. My mind went blank. Or more black. I genuinely couldn't remember a single thing after that moment of dancing and seeing Nat and Evelyn's faces staring at me in cringing amusement.  
  
"Uh huh. Would you like me to fill you in on what's currently blank in your head? Well, you made a repeat of last year's party, let's just say." She was smirking. My gut clenched. "On your own this time, Natasha has learned from her mistakes so this was all on you. You drank a little too much, regardless of the fact you said you weren't gonna drink and if you did it would be accidentally. You jumped on one of the tables and belted out 'Single Ladies' which was actually kind of impressive for a mostly deaf guy of your age. You insulted Coulson to his face calling him a..." She clicked her fingers in a circle, trying to remember. "...a  _cotton headed ninny muggins_ , is that what it was? You're apparently quite inventive with your language when drunk. And you were hitting on, uh, who was she? Marian? Maeve? Maddison? Really stern woman, last name 'Hill'."  
  
"Oh, Christ. Maria." I dropped my head in my hands. Bad idea because any movement to my head made me want to chuck up my liver into the nearest toilet. "Uuuugh, Fury's gonna have my ass." I scrubbed my face with both hands, fingers pressing into my eyes.  
  
"Oh, right, that. Yes, well, you may have a slightly bigger problem now than you did before after you threw up on him last night, too." Evelyn responded softly, and when I pulled my head out of my hands, the female was smirking widely.  
  
It took my brain a few seconds to reconnect and I squinted at the teenager. "Okay, now I  _know_ you're fucking with me." I accused, pointing a finger.  
  
Evelyn raised an eyebrow, lips pressed into a line. Then she broke into a wide grin and started laughing and nudged my shoulder. "Yes, of course, I'm fucking with you. What really happened was you drank a little too much, danced a little along to Single Ladies  _-I didn't make that bit up-_  and then you were about to pass out in a booth so Nat and I somehow managed to drag you outside with the help of RumPants or whoever that guy was. We got you into a cab and then got you home. At which point I said I could walk back to my house, and you started whining I should stay here because I was ' _in-to-xi-cated'_  and should stay here. I pulled out my keys and you snatched them and ran off with them, declaring I would have to stay at yours as you hid them somewhere in the house, then proceeded to pass out on the couch." The girl sat on the backrest of the sofa with one leg, looking down at me.   
  
I nodded, trying to remember how stupid I was last night but came up with nothing after my third round of stiff whiskey. "Aaaaand I'm guessing by the fact you're still here you didn't find them."   
  
"Remind me to never play hide and seek with you in the future." She chuckled softly, shaking her head. It was then I noticed the two cups in her hand.  
  
"Is that..?" She was already handing me one before I'd finished. It wasn't instant stuff, the cups were from the local coffee shop that was open twenty-four hours. It smelt good, and tasted better. And then the little angel was handing me a packet of aspirin too. "You're amazing." I smiled like a dope.  
  
"Yeah, yeah, now, when your head has stopped spinning and you've had a nice shower to stop smelling like you crashed into a liquor store, can you help me find my keys please?"  
  
"Yeah, yeah, just... shushy time for now." I waved her off, sipping the coffee again and lying back down, curling up with the cup.  
  
"Alright. I'll leave you two alone, I think. Am I permitted to use the kitchen to make some form of breakfast or shall I go back to the village and grab some stuff?"  
  
"Huh? Oh, yeah, sure. Use whatever. If you empty anything just write it on the notes on the fridge so I know to pick up some more of whatever later." I mumbled out, not even sure I was loud enough for her to hear, but the sounds of her footsteps fading away into the house made me believe she had.  
  
  
**3rd Person POV - One hour later**  
"It's not brilliant. I'm not the greatest cook in the world but who's ever gone wrong with bacon, scrambled egg, and toast? Actually, don't answer that, I once set fire to my oven trying to cook bacon on the grill setting." Evelyn came into the living room, handing out two plates to either agent sat cuddled up on the sofa mindlessly watching some soap opera on repeat on the TV.   
  
"Where's yours?" Natasha asked, taking her plate and fork. The redhead had joined Clint half an hour before after dragging herself out of bed and into one of Clint's oversized hoodies.  
  
"I'm not hungry." The teen shrugged.  
  
Both agents gave her a look. "Evelyn."  
  
"I already ate. I had toast." She said instead, nodding to the kitchen.  
  
Clint squinted, disbelieving. "Prove it. Bring us the plate so we can see." He put his own plate in his lap, crossing his arms and inherently more awake than before, able to see and question the teenager's words.  
  
The brunette itched the back of her neck. "I cleaned it already?"  
  
"Ev-e-lyn, have something to eat." Clint sounded out her name carefully, giving her a 'don't mess with me' look he'd often give the newbies to drag them back in line during training.  
  
"I'm honestly not hungry. I never am first thing in the morning. And I had hot chocolate. Plus, I shouldn't even be here to having this conversation with you and I should at home. And I would be if I knew where my damn keys were."  
  
"I'll help you find them-"  
  
"Finally."  
  
"- _if_ you have something to eat." Clint finished, smiling dryly.  
  
"Oh come on. You're basically saying force something into my system or I'm never going home." Evelyn groaned exasperatedly before turning away, then mumbled something quietly under her breath about preferring to starve.  
  
" _Evelyn_."  
  
"Why do you have such an odd relationship with food?" Natasha ignored Clint's indignant shout.  
  
"This is not a conversation I want to be having right now and right here. I shouldn't be here, I should be at home sleeping in like every other teenager without a job on a Saturday." Evie crossed her arms.  
  
"If you can give us a reason, just one, about why you don't want to eat right now or why you eat basically half of anything that Clint gives you, we can drop the matter entirely and it will never come up again." The redhead was once again the accidental mother figure and voice of reason when Clint was still dealing with the after-effects of blacking out the night before. "Come on, Evie. You've got one week left of this and then your job ends." She tried to entice the teenager.  
  
"One week? That went fast." Evelyn said more to herself than the others, brow furrowing before looking back at the agents, clearing her throat and deciding to get it out and over with. "I felt in a constant state of guilt because I was another mouth for them to feed and I didn't have a job or did much in the house other than eat and sleep there. And then I moved out into my own apartment with my main income source being my grandparents so eating had to be cheap, then came studies and exams and all that shit falling down on top of me. And in that kind of environment, eating often goes to the bottom of the list. It became something I just did to function, and because I had to do to stay awake or focus."  
  
Clint nearly winced at her words. "If you keep it up, when you're sparring or working out, you are going to pass out because your body is not getting enough."  
  
"I don't have that much of a problem. I do eat. I don't have a serious disorder or anything." Evelyn folded her arms over herself, eyes going to the floor.  
  
"It's not enough. Especially for someone who does physical activities more than the average person," The archer lectured, "And still, when you're here and you don't have to worry about buying what you're eating, you barely finish it all."  
  
"Its..." Evie whined out loud, looking close to stamping her foot in frustration. "I still feel guilty about it. You don't have to do half the things you do for me and yet, you won't stop doing them. Like, why do you care so much?" She shrugged.  
  
"Because it's nice to have people care about you. You aren't just the person that kicked in my porch door, Evelyn, you're my friend.  _Our_ friend. And how I treat friends is how I treat you, whether that be giving you food when you're here or trying to support your love for hobbies like mechanics, so long as you tell me and don't just randomly fix stuff like my car." Clint answered with a look accompanying the last comment.  
  
"And it also includes raising concerns with you on stuff like this too. He's pushy like that." Natasha added helpfully.  
  
"It feels weird. People other than family caring about all the little things. I don't know if I like it." The girl mumbled, scuffing the varnished wood floor with her boot. "You tend to just cut through everything faster than anyone I've ever met. Is there any chance I can get you guys to stop calling me out on my bullshit, please?" She asked with an embarrassed chuckle.  
  
"...No." Both agents deadpanned together.  
  
"You are going to eat something before leaving this house, even if we have to duct tape you to a chair and feed you ourselves." Nat smiled sweetly.  
  
Evie huffed, arms crossing. "You wouldn't do that."  
  
"Wouldn't we?" Both agents answered together, again.  
  
Evelyn was slightly unnerved by that. And by the fact she truly didn't know whether or not they would actually do that to her. There were clear boundaries they had between what they did at work and here, especially to do with Evelyn, but she had to consider how much they seemed to 'care', too.  
  
"You wouldn't?" It came out more like a question, and Evie mentally kicked herself as she heard the uncertainty in her own voice.  
  
"It's in the bottom kitchen drawer, right?" Nat asked Clint.  
  
"Uh huh." The archer nodded, and the two of them started to move off the sofa simultaneously.  
  
Evie stumbled back, hands up and waving. "Okay, okay. Slow the hell down. Let's just back up for a second, here, right? How much do I have to eat to not get you guys to do that?" She made the assassin and archer pause, halfway off the couch.  
  
"At least two thirds as what's currently on our plates now." Clint clarified. The brunette whined, arms thrown down and looking ready to argue again. "Bottom drawer, Red," Barton repeated with a sigh and Nat nodded, moving again.  
  
"I'm going, I'm going! I'll eat something! No duct tape needed here!" The teenager scampered off to the kitchen to quickly whip up a plate of her own, leaving the two SHIELD agents smirking smugly and high-fiving in a won-before-it-started victory.


	29. Codenames

**Evelyn's POV - Lunchtime**  
After a morning of walking off and drinking away a fortunately mild hangover, and successfully not being duct taped to a chair and force-fed, it only took ten or so minutes for Clint to find my keys in a plant pot outside. He also found a few other items he'd apparently hidden there too when too drunk to remember and made a few apologies to Nat for any accusations he may have thrown at her about them in the past. And Nat only demanded the fair trade of being taken out for dinner sometime soon as compensation. Safe to say the two were on good terms again, if the smile they shared was anything to go by, not to brag but even for someone without spy skills could see that one.  
  
However, following actually retrieving my keys, I didn't really want to go home anymore. I mean, sure, I could use a shower and get out of this dress and boots because it's beating down sunshine outside and I'm wearing all black, but I just didn't feel like going. And Clint didn't really say anything about it as he talked about making lunch for the three of us. All in all, it seemed like I was welcome, even on a day where Clint was supposed to be rid of me, a pretty uneventful one if you don't count Lucky scampering up and down as I continually tossed him a chew toy around the house, much to the archer's irritation. But I wasn't going to stand outside in a jet black dress in the scorching sun longer than necessary, thank you, Barton.  
  
It was only after lunch when Clint took a call outside that things picked up from there. Nat and I had settled on the couch tossing one of the tennis balls Lucky had yet to attack while he was playing with a rubber bone, distractedly watching the TV on a random cooking channel.  
  
That's when Clint came back inside, mumbling to whoever was on the other end. "Yes, sir." The first words indicated it was probably SHIELD to tell him off for last night. His pained expression also supported the theory. "Of course, sir. Underst-- wait, what?" He paused in step, brow furrowing. Nat and I shared a glance before looking back at Clint, face fallen. "Uh... of course, sir. No, no. Understood. Goodbye." He ended the call, sliding his phone in his front pocket.  
  
Then he just kinda stood there for a second staring at the stairs, a hand on the wall, fingers tapping out an indistinct rhythm.  
  
"What's up?" I broke the silence first.  
  
He turned to us. "That was Coulson. I'm pretty much gonna get my ass roasted tomorrow." He answered, tongue rolling against his inside cheek.  
  
"That's not everything, is it?" I put down my drink on the coffee table, leaning on the sofa backrest.  
  
The archer leant back on the wall, arms folding. "He wants me to bring you two of you with me to work tomorrow."  
  
"Well, I mean, that's not too bad- wait,  _both_?"  
  
Clint nodded. "Specifically you, Evie. And Coulson suspects Nat's involved somehow, regardless of how much you avoided mentioning her. So yeah. Both."  
  
I sat back down properly, facing the TV still playing some random show, and Lucky even having stopped playing with his rubber bone to stare at the three of us in silence. "Well, shit." I rubbed my face with one hand, looking at Barton. "Any chance I can possibly avoid this?"  
  
"Not unless you want Fury knocking on your door. Or figuring out your phone number."  
  
"I'd send him to voicemail."  
  
"You would not."  
  
"Watch me, Widow." I narrowed my eyes before wiggling my eyebrows. She laughed. Though she was probably right. I wasn't quite that brave to do that to the guy, plus it's not like he would mistake my voicemail for someone else's since the recorded message mentioned my name, so no mistaking it for the wrong number.  
  
"Hey, what did I say about using codenames? I'm going to have to start thinking of one for you, now." Clint crossed his arms again, pushing himself off the wall with a smirk.  
  
"Well, you already have Little Miss Fix-It under your belt, so let's see you think of something better." I folded my arms on the back of the sofa, resting my chin on my hands, looking up at him.  
  
Clint and Natasha seemed to share a look. It lasted no longer than a second, but it seemed the two knew exactly what the other was thinking before the archer smirked wider. "We'll collaborate and get back to you on that one." He nodded with a wink.  
  
I grinned. "Sure thing, Hawkeye."  
  
"Stop iiiiiit."  
  
  
 **Clint's POV - 2:34pm**  
The rest of the morning and start of the afternoon, Evelyn stayed. It was a different feeling to her being here during the week, and there was no pressure to be here or do that. And as Lucky decided to join the party, everyone was happily nursing their hangovers -well, mainly me- and just relaxing before the stress of being forced into the SHIELD office building tomorrow morning.  
  
I didn't blame Evie for not wanting to go, Fury and Coulson were freaky at the best of times, but now they had a reason to up the ante and be outright terrifying now. I just hoped they considered the fact she was young and didn't know absolutely everything about SHIELD when thinking about what to do next.  
  
I knelt down in front of the armchair, getting a lick on the cheek from the one-eyed dog for my efforts. "Evie?" I whispered gently, and the teenager stirred.  
  
"Hm?" She pried open her eyes, but they hung half-closed even with the effort.  
  
"Wouldn't you rather sleep upstairs?" I kept my volume low and to a gentle whisper.  
  
The teen shifted in her seat, readjusting the way her neck was angled against the chair back. "I'm fine." She cuddled Lucky closer like a blanket, much to the pup's delight.  
  
"You're sleeping in the armchair," I told her. She didn't really respond past a huff. She looked downright exhausted. "How much did you sleep last night?" I recalled this morning when she looked too awake to have only just risen. The teen shrugged. "What does a shrug mean?" I interrogated slightly louder, and Evelyn's face scrunched slightly, but there was no recordable response beyond that. "You didn't sleep at all last night, did you?" I accused finally, and she opened her eyes, letting Lucky jump down from her lap so she could sit up a little straighter and look at me.  
  
"When we came back from the party it was like 2am. Nat went upstairs and crashed in your bed and you passed out on the sofa. You coughed a few times every so often for an hour and I was worried about you being sick so I stayed up. And soon enough it was like 5am, so I saw no point in going to bed and I just stayed awake and got coffee and stuff from down the street." She spoke, slightly slurry from tiredness.  
  
"Evie..." I put my hand to my face, sighing.  
  
"It was an honest accident. And I was worried about you." She pouted at me.  
  
"I can handle myself."  
  
"Apparently not when drunk. And hey, if you're allowed to worry about me, the least I can do is worry about you in return. This is a sharing relationship." She poked my shoulder before relaxing back into her chair, eyes slipping closed again.  
  
Lucky nuzzled my side and I looked down at him, ruffling his fur. He yipped gently before moving to curl around Evie's legs and lie down, happily staying guard with a chewtoy in his jaw. I shook my head, standing up and pulling a throw from the sofa, laying it over Evelyn's body, regardless of the summer heat. She was still only in a dress, even though I'd offered her clothes to wear instead.  
  
"Sweet dreams, Evelyn," I said softly, patting her head once before glancing down at the guard dog. "Look after her," I told him before making my way out of the living room and quietly closing the kitchen door behind me. It didn't take long to notice the redhead sitting on the counter, smiling at me. "What?" I raised an eyebrow.  
  
"Father bear has returned home." He smirked, digging into the ice cream tub in her hands.  
  
"Shut up." I scoffed and opened the fridge, pulling out a pitcher of lemonade to pour myself one.  
  
"She really grows on you. And, more importantly, she makes you happy. I don't think I've ever seen you so relaxed in years." Natasha continued to talk.  
  
"I just hope no one else figures that out. I'm putting her in so much danger." I filled up a glass with the yellow liquid.  
  
"Anyone that meets you is in danger. And why the sudden concern now?"  
  
"Well, now SHIELD know. And if this somehow goes down in my record for one reason or another, Evelyn is then at risk." I put the pitcher down, taking a sip from the glass before turning to the freezer for ice cubes. "I hate to say it but I'm kind of hoping SHIELD fucks off about this tomorrow when we bring her in."  
  
"When  _we_ bring her in?"  
  
"Yes, 'we'. Me and you. We're what started this in the first place, it was your idea to get her involved regardless of whether you thought I'd actually go along with it or not." I said, and added the last comment in response to her look when I mentioned 'her idea'. "She's our responsibility now," I added two cubes into the glass before closing the freezer again and putting the lemonade jug back in the fridge.  
  
"I can work with that, I guess." Nat nodded softly, and I was glad of that.  
  
Natasha didn't usually enjoy having new responsibilities on herself, particularly people considering her colourful past, but Evelyn seemed to be a good fit for the two of us to accept in our personal lives, and to be honest, it was a little too late to take it back now. Things were too far gone at this point. And we'd see exactly how far gone things were when we headed to Headquarters tomorrow.


	30. Meeting

**Monday 27th August - Final week**  
Just when Evelyn thought that things could actually start being normal in her life and stop being 'the day things went to shit' almost every other morning, the girl was nearly immediately proven wrong by the universe. And now she was dealing with the consequences. Waking up that morning -in her own bed this time- she had really not wanted to shower and head to Clint house, and would rather stay under the covers and let the world fuck around without her that day.  
  
She should have just said not to Clint and Natasha.  
  
But she didn't. And the teenager really should learn not to definitively name any day 'the day the world went to shit', because something like this will happen again, and put her back in her place.  
  
Eventually, Evie convinced herself to get out of bed. Mainly because of the  _'it's going to be alright'_  text she'd received from Barton a few minutes before she was supposed to leave, but the archer didn't need to know that part. Grabbing her backpack because what else are you supposed to bring to something like this, she headed out and walked to the barn house with lacking enthusiasm compared with other mornings. Clint greeted her with just as much enthusiasm before leading her to the car with the promise that Nat was already at HQ where they were heading.  
  
It seemed a little stupid, if she was honest, that a company that was so angry at Clint for telling her secrets was inviting her directly to Headquarters -or one of them- but who was she to question this secret underground organisation of spies and shit? Oh yeah. A girl who kicked in a secret agent's door because she was annoyed at school.  
  
The sudden stopping of the car jolted Evie out of her thoughts to realise Clint had pulled up in a car park. Well, at least if anyone asked, Evie wouldn't be able to give directions considering half the ride she wasn't paying attention.  
  
"You ready?" Clint cut off the engine, putting his keys in his pocket.  
  
Evelyn nodded her head, "Nope." She smiled dryly.  
  
Clint chuckled and ruffled her hair, eliciting a half-growl from the girl before pulling up her hood over the mess. "Come on. I'll buy you an ice-cream after."  
  
"If I still know who I am after this," Evie mumbled, reaching to the backseat for her backpack.  
  
"They can't erase your memories. This isn't Men In Black." The archer rolled his eyes.  
  
"Oh, so you're not immune to modern pop-culture, then?" Evie smirked.  
  
Clint snorted and lightly shoved her. "Shut up. And get out of my car."  
  
  
The level 7 agent led the civilian inside, pinning his badge to the chest of his regular uniform. Barely anyone gave the two a second glance bar the receptionist who granted Evelyn the equivalent of a visitors badge. Though she did concede maybe because of the maintenance work going on around them with people up ladders to fix lights and others on the floor surrounded with wires, that was taking up most of the attention and priority. Then it was just a matter of stepping into the elevator and moving upstairs to the offices.  
  
_"Unauthorised personnel in elevator."_ The lift beeped as soon as the two stepped in and Clint pressed the top floor button.  
  
"Override, Barton, Clint F." The archer said.  
  
_"Denied."_ The elevator replied, almost smugly.  
  
"Contact Fury. He's expecting guests." The agent responded, bitterly.  
  
Evelyn creased her brow. "F? You have a middle name?"  
  
"Yep." Barton nodded.  
  
Evie smiled. "You gonna tell me what it is?"  
  
"Nope." Clint shook his head.  
  
"Fine. I'll ask Natasha when I see her." Evie shrugged.  
  
_"Director override. Granted."_  
  
The elevator jolted into movement, quickly sliding upwards as Evie looked behind her, watching herself climb higher and higher over the view of the nearby city. She wondered whether people just thought this was an office building with strict security and whether they'd had accidental walk-ins before. It seemed simple enough by the way they'd practically waltzed in from the car park, but again, she hadn't been paying attention to how they got into the car park originally.  
  
The elevator doors opened as Evelyn started to get dizzy at the height, Clint tugging her sleeve to bring her into a corridor with only a few doors and a few maintenance guys kneeling beside an opened vent with a mess of wires in their laps. Manoeuvring past the workers with a short round of 'good morning's between Barton and themselves, they came upon the door furthest down the corridor, knocking loudly and waiting for the call before entering together, Evie followed Clint very closely behind.  
  
"Ah, Miss Evelyn, and Agent Barton. Glad you could join us." Coulson was the one to greet the two as Clint closed the door, stood behind the desk a few paces in front of the ceiling to floor window overlooking the city. Evie could probably see Clint's house from here if she knew the general direction.  
  
"Morning sir. Director." The agent nodded to the two of them, crossing the expanse of the room to stand in front of the desk where a solitary chair had been laid out, directly across from Fury sat in his own office chair and staring at the two with calm sternness.  
  
Fury stood only then, straightening his trenchcoat jacket. "Barton if you could wait outside for a few minutes." The man nodded back to the door.  
  
Clint practically felt Evie freeze up beside him, even though they weren't touching. "Uh, I'm not sure that's a good idea." He glanced between the teen and the Director.  
  
"Now." The man ordered.  
  
Clint clearly didn't appear comfortable with the order, as Coulson butted in, "She'll be fine, Clint." The suited man, this time without his sunglasses, tried to soothe the archer and teenager collectively.  
  
With a last look at Evelyn to try and reassure her, the archer nodded at his bosses and made for the door. Evie itched to grab his arm and hold onto him but restrained herself as she watched the solid black painted door close behind him with an echoing click.  
  
"Sit." Fury sat down, giving Evelyn the order to do the same. She did, taking a deep breath in and out.  
  
"Drink?" Coulson offered, still stood by Fury's side.  
  
"I'm good." Evie smiled politely.  
  
The Director cleared his throat, sitting up. "Right. You are here because we have a dilemma on our hands, don't we?" He clasped his hands together on the desk.  
  
"I already swore I wouldn't tell anyone. I stand by secrecy."  
  
"This isn't an arrest, Miss Summers. This is merely a session to find out what you know, the extent, and how to move forward accordingly. You are not necessarily in any trouble." Coulson explained.  
  
Evie did relax a little at that. "Are Clint and Nat in trouble?" She asked.  
  
"That's their concern, not yours."  
  
"Yeah, but, they're my friends. Or at least I hope they think we are." Evelyn picked at the loose threads of her hoodie sleeve.  
  
"Miss Evelyn, you have become a problem - a problem I have to deal with." Fury tried getting back on point.  
  
"You'd be surprised how many times I've heard that before." The teen mumbled to herself, reminded much of being in her principal's office for reasons she didn't act out.  
  
"You see, the whole point of a secret organisation is that it remains secret. Now, how is that gonna happen when agents are telling civilians about that organisation?"   
  
"Clint's in a lot of trouble, here, isn't he?" She looked up from her sleeves, worrying the inside of her lip.  
  
Coulson drew his brow. "Why are you so concerned for him and not yourself? You're the one in inquiry right now."  
  
Evie shrugged. "I like him? He's nice. If a bit of an old ass." She smiled to herself, especially when she caught the ever so sslightly exasperated expressions from both men who were clearly older than Barton.  
  
"How was it that you two met, again? You blurted your explanation when we last met." Fury leaned forward over the desk.  
  
Evie almost flushed, embarrassed. "I kicked in his front door. I'd been having a bad day and needed an anger outlet. I saw the front door of his porch and kicked it down."  
  
"And then he met you?"  
  
"No. It was only after I did it three more times we met because the fourth time I dropped my phone. Then he came to my school to return it, and offered me a summer job at his farm which up until now has actually the best fun I've had in years."  
  
"And finding us out?" Coulson hummed.  
  
"He left a bag filled with fake ID's and passports and other little gadgets and stuff in his home training room and I stumbled across them. I questioned him, and he decided to tell me since I hadn't instantly run off to the authorities when realising he wasn't who he said he was." Evie went back to picking at her hoodie again, even biting at the material to pull out new threads to pick at as the two men glanced between each other in silent conversation.  
  
"You really just jumped headfirst into all this, didn't you?" Coulson folded his arms, eyes crinkling in quiet amusement.  
  
"No, no. I didn't jump. I hopped, skipped, and 'what the fuck just happened' into it." The teen chuckled timidly, trying to lighten the mood of the thick air of the room. There were no windows to open since the wall behind Fury and Coulson was all glass. And Eve felt dizzy again as she glanced past the agents to look out to the faraway city below.  
  
"Miss Evelyn-"  
  
"Can you just call me Evelyn? Or Evie? ' _Miss_ ' really isn't needed." She brought her eyes back to Fury.  
  
"Evelyn, I do what I do to protect people. SHIELD was founded and built with that one goal in mind - protection. Sometimes, to protect one man against himself. Other times, to protect the planet against an invasion. It's a broad job description." The Director leaned back in his chair, leather against leather creaking. "So, why do you do what you do, Evelyn?"  
  
Evie furrowed her brow. "What do you mean by that?"  
  
"You're a student. Or you were before the summer. And you work at Agent Barton's household. So, why do you do what you do? What subjects do you enjoy doing and why do you do them? Etcetera, etcetera." Fury circled his hand in the air.  
  
Evie took a second to think on it. "I mean, I don't really do anything. I'm a kid fresh out of high school with a passion for engineering with no plans for my future who got mixed up with Barton because I have impulse control issues." She shrugged openly.  
  
"As a young woman moving forward, why do you do what you do?" Fury narrowed down his question, and Evie took another few seconds to consider her answer.  
  
"Cause I like helping people. I do my best, I do what I know because I can. And because I like to fix stuff. Why I want to be a mechanic is down to half because I enjoy the subject and half because I like being able to fix what's broken. Anything can be fixed or rebuilt with the right amount of responsibility and skill, as long as you're willing to put the time, effort, and consideration into it."  
  
Coulson hummed a soft note, a smile teasing the edge of his lips. "That's sweet."  
  
"Yeah, that sounded a lot less sappy in my head, I gotta admit." Evelyn rubbed the back of her neck, chewing her lip again and shaking her head at herself.  
  
"And you care for Agent Barton. A lot, it would seem, considering how you've asked about him and how much trouble he could be in for this incident," The suited agent continued.  
  
"Uh huh." The girl nodded, easing back in her seat as she realised she didn't understand exactly what her relationship with Clint was, but it felt like something deeper than friendship. Though maybe that was because she was clingy, or hadn't made a new friend in a while and was just getting excited.  
  
"Well, I think it ends this meeting on a perfect note." Fury tapped the desk and stood.  
  
"Huh?" Evie snapped from her thoughts but was still equally confused.  
  
"Our business here is done. For now." Fury said with a nod.  
  
Evie blinked. "Am I getting arrested?"  
  
"No." The Director responded with a headshake, "You may leave my office, and you may leave the building, freely. Agent Barton can drive you home... after I have a word with him. Agent Romanoff has already been briefed."  
  
"Go easy on him, sir. It really isn't his fault... mostly." She picked up her backpack, gripping the strap tightly.  
  
"You can wait outside, now." Coulson nodded to the door.  
  
"Sir yes, sir." Evie smiled gently and gave a small salute.  
  
"Move."  
  
"Sorry." Evie all but scrambled across the office and to the door, nodding at Barton and swapping places with him where he had been waiting outside the door, leaning against one wall.  
  
The door shut snugly behind him and Evie released a breath she was unaware she'd been holding. Running a hand through her hair, she straightened it in her fingers as if that would straighten her thoughts. Was this how interrogations usually went? Hell if she knew.  
  
Sighing, she slid her back down the wall and sat on the carpet, letting out another long breath to clear her mind, the only other noise in the room besides herself being the three workmen muttering and cursing at each other as they tried to fix the bloody electrics system.


	31. Tangled wires

**10 minutes later...**  
Glancing down the corridor, Evelyn watched the three workmen gathered around that vent with the wires and electrics, two of them muttering curses at each other while the third held a blueprint of the layout spread in his hands, brow furrowed like he was trying to make the paper levitate with telekinesis. She didn't know what else to do other than watch them or play on her phone, unsure of how long Clint would be.  
  
Her own meeting had apparently only lasted a few minutes, but Barton's was taking forever. Well, it was really ten minutes, but her butt was going numb from sitting and she was bored. Tapping her phone against her palm, she glanced back at the workers who were untangling the mess of cables in their laps, and she had no sooner narrowed her eyes to try and see what they were doing on the relay panel when the office door opened and Clint stepped out.  
  
Confused by the fact he couldn't see her at eye level, he looked around the corridor before finally down at where she was sitting, before breaking a smile. "Can I borrow your crossword book for a minute, please?" He held his palm out.  
  
"Can you borrow my... why?" She furrowed her brow up at him.  
  
"Just for a minute. Trust me." Clint's smile grew wider.  
  
Evelyn just raised an eyebrow. "You say that like somehow make wise decisions when I lend you my trust."  
  
"Evie." Clint pressed.  
  
"Okay, okay. Damn." The teen unzipped and reached into her bag, pulling out the mostly completed crossword book, handing it over to the eager archer. "How did you even know I had it on me?"  
  
"I know you, Evelyn." And the door was suddenly closed again. Giving the door a confused look as if it would give her an answer, Evie questioned her friendship with the agent before sitting back, letting her head hit the wall behind her with a hollow thud.  
  
And they looked close to having a fight break out between the two with screwdrivers in hand.  
  
Evie stood up, hearing her joints pop uncomfortably before wandering down the corridor and carefully approaching the tense trio sat by the vent.  
  
"What are you guys doing, may I ask?" She held onto her backpack strap, leaning over.  
  
One of the screwdriver men spoke up, the one who'd shucked off his high-vis vest. "Idiot here is trying to figure out why the circuit isn't working. He says its the magnetic field but I say the voltage we're trying to run through it is too high." He gestured to the worker who still had his vest on, glaring at his 'friend'.  
  
Evie glanced at the third, holding the paper instructions and looking still as confused as ever. "Mind if I had a look?"  
  
The instructions guy, 'Jack' it said on his badge, handed over the instructions. "Don't see how it could do any harm."  
  
Evie studied the instructions as the vest brothers went back to arguing and making sure no one got electrocuted. Evie's eyes flicked between the papers and circuit board a few times. "You've crossed the wires on the transformer."  
  
"You what?" Vest guy, 'Mark' said the badge, looked down at the transformer in the centre of the board.  
  
"See, the blue is tied up with the red. The power's being redirected in the circuit. The voltage isn't a problem and neither is the magnetic field, in this context."  
  
"You've looked at that sheet for three seconds and figured out more than we have in three hours." Non-Vest guy, 'Felix', put his face in his hand, shaking his head softly.  
  
"Fresh eyes?" Evie shrugged one shoulder, innocently. "Also, the layout you've put down is inefficient. It would be better to move the earth wires to the left and the water to the right." She gestured to the wires, tapping them in indication.  
  
Jack smirked proudly at the other two. "Told you soooo."  
  
 **Office**  
"And I'm sure you figured out from your own talk with her, even just being in the same room as her for a few minutes and listening to her talk, that she is a genuine, strong person. It might sound sappy but she's a good kid, and you kinda have to respect that considering all the other stuff we've seen come up over the years." Clint shrugged one shoulder, glancing between the two men.  
  
"That's amusing." The Director said. Clint hummed in question. "Miss Evelyn said something similar about emotional judgments." Fury continued.  
  
"She also called you an old ass," Coulson informed him.  
  
"Sounds like Evie." Clint smiled to himself before straightening out. "Sir, I really think you should at least consider what I said. What would be better than making a civilian a member? It ensures silence and gives us another viable recruit. She's officially nineteen, finished education and pending her results, even Natasha will vouch for her combat skills - she knows the basics and is a fast learner."  
  
"Agent Barton, I appreciate what you're trying to do for your friend, but SHIELD agents aren't just picked up at random because of loose ends." Coulson sighed at the younger agent, still inwardly bristling about the indirect age comment.  
  
"You trusted me with Agent Romanoff," Clint said.  
  
Both men behind the desk fell silent. That incident hadn't been discussed in years. None of them had really wanted to talk about it since Clint brought Natasha into SHIELD, changing his orders and the situation turning out with more benefits than losses for SHIELD.   
  
"You trusted me with Natasha. Trust me with Evelyn." The agent continued, clasping his arms behind him and keeping eye contact steady. It was a big ask, sure, but they owed him one for all his work. Or at least that's how he hoped they saw it. Just this once.  
  
Coulson looked between the young agent and the Director, letting out a sigh and yielded. "We'll think about considering it. Don't bet your money on anything permanently. Though you can tell her she certainly won't be being bothered by us, or by an arrest warrant, either."  
  
"Thank you, sirs." Clint nodded, taking that as permission to leave and crossing the office when he didn't hear an argument at his turning away. Opening the door, he moved to head through, before pausing as his eyes locked on something. He raised an eyebrow at the situation faced with him. "Evelyn? What are you doing?" He stood and watched for a few moments, looking confused and almost concerned at first, before it slowly morphed into a smile.  
  
"Barton?" Coulson asked across the room.  
  
Clint nodded for the two to come and see what he was seeing. After a brief glance, the two agents followed to where Barton was standing beside the door to look at what was so important.  
  
"Aaaaand got it. Nice one, guys." Evelyn took a step back from the vent, screwdriver in hand as she stretched out from crouching down to seal it back onto the wall.  
  
"Thanks to you." Jack took the screwdriver back, folding up the instructions as Felix and Mark packed up their own stuff.  
  
"Nah. I just looked at some paperwork. You guys did the rest." The teenager shrugged softly.  
  
"This puts us back on schedule, and even ahead of time with repairs. Oh, hello, Director. Sir." Mark recognised the entrance of their bosses, causing the other two to turn and nod their heads respectfully. "Right. Downstairs is next, by the reception. Are you sure you can't come to see if you can work your magic there?" The non-vested worker gestured to the elevator as the others walked to it and signalled it to climb up to their floor.  
  
Evelyn looked back at Clint, Coulson, and Fury, before back to the boys. "I'm in the middle of something, gentlemen."  
  
"Shame. But thank you, again." Mark patted her shoulder.  
  
Clint felt a small sense of pride when he saw she didn't flinch and was smiling shyly as Mark and the others stepped into the lift, heading down to reception and leaving the four standing in the corridor. "You still thinking about considering it?" Barton folded his arms at his two elders, who scowled at him in a less than inconspicuous way.   
  
"Considering what?" Evie asked, walking over to stand with them.  
  
Then the two retreated into the office, shutting the door in the archer's face.  
  
"Okay then." Evie shook her head, muttering about how rude that was, before looking to her friend. "What was that all about?"  
  
Clint smirked to himself, picking her discarded backpack up off the floor. "Never you mind. Now, come on. I promised you an ice-cream, didn't I?" He slung the bag over his own shoulder, even with Evelyn staring at him for it, but the two headed to the elevator, waiting for it to empty and then come and get them off the top floor.  
  
"You can't solve everything with ice-cream, you know." She muttered at him, crossing her arms with a pout.  
  
"I can try." Clint smiled, ruffling her hair again and causing the girl to whine and shove his hand off her, but with an affectionate softness to the touch.  
  
"I'm still asking Natasha for your middle name, you know." Evie declared as the elevator opened up to them. She even tried looking at his SHIELD badge, but it didn't tell her. Just displayed the initial, teasingly.  
  
"She won't tell you." Clint declared confidently, hitting the bottom floor button and the doors slid closed, the elevator descending.  
   
Evie bit her lip, looking up at him. "Would she if I threatened not to eat until she told me?"  
  
Clint's head snapped to her. " _Evelyn_. And no, she wouldn't. She's an agent, she wouldn't crack so easily."  
  
"You probably would." The teen mumbled under her breath, folding her arms.  
  
Barton stared at her for a few seconds with a half-smile. "You're a manipulative little shit sometimes, you know that?"  
  
Evie spluttered and started laughing, arms uncrossing. She laughed into her hand, shaking her head and looking up at him. "Where the hell did that come from?" Clint shrugged, grinning, and faced the front of the elevator. Evelyn huffed and shook her head. "You're a bad influence. I probably get it off you."  
  
"Sure you do, kiddo."  
  
Evie made a face. "Don't call me kiddo. I will punch you, old man."  
  
"No, you won't, Little Miss Fix-It."  
  
A sigh. "No, I won't. Yet."


	32. Chasing cars

**The next day - Tuesday**  
Monday had been an interesting day for everyone involved, to say the least.  
  
Clint decided the kid might need more of a reward for facing his bosses than just ice-cream, plus he had a promise to follow through on, and so found himself covered in grease by 9:45am and nearly tripping over cogs that were quickly being hidden by the hay beneath his feet. It might not have been a Harley Davidson, but it was sure to make the kid happy after seeing her pouting reaction towards being denied access last time.  
  
"Clint?" He turned his head as he heard the teen calling out his name. Tossing the rag in hand to rest over his shoulder and only stumbling mildly as he exited the garage barn, he caught her eye in the garden and waved her back over this side of the fence gate. "Clint! Clint! Look what came through my door today." She waved a piece of paper in the air, grinning widely.  
  
Taking the offered paper as she reached him, he unfolded it to read the letter. It was her exam results. And by the looks of things, she was right to be happy, consistent B's and a few A's in obvious areas. "Oh, wow. Well done, Evie." Clint smiled softly and ruffled her hair, much to the teenagers' annoyance.  
  
"Stop doing that or I swear I'll bite you." She crossed her arms.  
  
"I might start calling you Lucky, then." Clint folded the paper and handed it back.  
  
"The last thing I am is lucky. Believe me." She slid the paper in her backpack before taking a second glance at Clint's form. "By the way, why are you all greasy and stuff? The car didn't stop again, did it?" She glanced to the car parked somewhere off the driveway because why would it be where it should be when it could be blocking traffic on an already too narrow backroad?  
  
"Well, now I suppose what I'm about to ask could be a graduation gift." Clint mumbled more to himself than the kid before continuing at a normal volume, "Remember last week when I offered to let you look at the tractor in-"  
  
" _Yes_ , and yes please I wanna look and touch and fix." The archer could practically see the excited sparkle flood into her bottle green eyes as she remembered the tractor.  
  
He shook his head with a chuckle. "First things first, have you eaten today?" He folded his arms to give him a sterner look.  
  
"Yeah," Evie said. Clint's silence prompted elaboration. "I had toast. Two slices. And some ice-cream." She expanded with a shrug.  
  
Clint conceded, "I suppose that will do. But don't eat ice-cream for breakfast, Evie. That's bad." He poked her nose with a head shake.  
  
"Poke my nose again and you will lose your precious bow-pulling fingers." She bit the air for emphasis.  
  
Barton rolled his eyes and slung an arm around her shoulders, turning her around to walk in the direction of the garage. "Come on. Bessie's waiting."  
  
As it turns out, Evelyn was exactly as competent -and possibly even more so- than Clint expected at fixing the tractor up. He gave a brief explanation before sitting back on a hay bale to watch the cogs turning both in Evie's head and in the tractor engine. She barely needed any help, and usually, it was for finding parts on the floor that had been buried by the hay.  
  
"By the way, Clint..." Evelyn started as she tightened up an engine part with a spanner. "My grandma is having a little buffet for her and her friends tomorrow at her house. I've been invited, and I wondered if you'd like to come along with me to keep me company."  
  
Clint blinked, unexpecting to be invited instead of just being asked to take time off to go. "Um... I'm not sure that's a good idea considering what happened when I took  _you_ out somewhere." He scratched the back of his neck.  
  
Evie wiped her hands on her jeans, turning to Barton. "Let me rephrase that. I want you to come with me so I'm not standing awkwardly to the side while friends of my grandparents talk and I get asked all sorts of questions I don't want to answer about what I'm doing with my life, relationship status, and if I think someone's niece or nephew is cute." She leaned back on the tractor, arms folding. "We don't have to stay long, but I'd really like a wingman on this. Otherwise, I'm gonna pull a sickie."  
  
"Alright, alright, I'll go. Do any of them know about..." Clint made a gesture to himself and the farmhouse, then where a police badge would be on his shirt and making a nod with a hat he didn't own.  
  
Evie shook her head, smiling slightly at his antics. "No. You're still my friend from work."  
  
"And no one's gonna think it's weird that a nineteen-year-old is bringing a forty-year-old along as a plus one?"  
  
She rolled her eyes. "You'll be fine. If anything, everyone will probably believe you're actually my uncle Micheal." The archer didn't miss the slightly scolding tone towards the end of that sentiment. He only rolled his eyes in response. "Plus, you don't look a day over thirty-nine."  
  
"Okay, do me a favour and don't compliment anyone at the buffet. You're not good at it."  
  
  
**Wednesday**  
Evie was happy that Clint had decided to drive them to her grandparent's house since today it seemed the universe wanted to break open the heavens and have the heaviest downpour that had been seen since that March. Honestly, it was moments away from hail-stoning when they jogged out of the car and to the front door, where they were met with friendly smiles and handshakes from friends and other people Evie and Clint equally didn't know.  
  
And it seemed Barton had been paranoid for nothing, since no one at the party questioned who he was in relation to Evie or her family, and in fact, he was barely being spared any glances from most of the adults. He didn't mind though. It beat having to go to his classic cover story of working together or the other one of being a police officer. He had the feeling that would have gone down like a lead balloon, especially with Evelyn involved.  
  
Evelyn however was enjoying Clint's company immensely, because not only could she just talk nonsense to him and he actually understand and be listening to her, but she had yet to have anyone come up and ask about whether she thought their niece, nephew, or even son and daughter were cute from this family picture that was clearly years old and the children were no longer part of a big happy family.  
  
Maybe her grandfather and grandmother have Clint a couple of second glances just in case, but nothing really special happened until Clint split off to be dragged into a conversation by the grandfather, and Evie split to talk with her grandmother. And Evelyn happened to mention Clint's deafness when she heard the telltale 'can you repeat that' from Raymond.  
  
"There's something the both of you already have in common. You're both deaf as bats." Irene chuckled, sipping from her flowery tea mug.  
  
Clint looked between Evelyn and Irene, seeing Evie trying to hide her smile behind a juice box that had been laid out at the buffet table. "I see where the sense of humour in the family comes from." The archer mumbled quietly into his own drink.  
  
"Oy! I heard that." Irene called over her shoulder, and Evie laughed as both Ray and Clint scowled and grumbled back at them.  
  
As more and more guests started arriving, the kitchen became crowded, so Clint and Evie decided to move into the front room instead where there were still a few guests but less than the kitchen. So it was only because she was stood beside the door to the stairs Evie heard the house phone go off.  
  
Opening the stair door, she picked up the corded phone and put it to her ear, still giggling at something Clint had said with a mouthful of food. "Hello?" She asked.  
  
_"Hello? Is Irene Summers there?"_ A female's voice answered from the other side. The voice sounded oddly familiar to Evelyn, and she felt a wave of deja-vu in her mind.  
  
"Who's this?" Evie asked, poking her head back out the door to try and spot her grandma.  
  
_"Evelyn? Is that you, sweetheart?"_  
  
Eveyln froze.  
  
She realised why she recognised that voice.  
  
And that's why she left the phone to the side and walked right out of the stairs with wide eyes and a slight ringing in her ears.  
  
"Evelyn? Evelyn." Someone was shaking her shoulder.  
  
Evie blinked, looking to her left to see her grandmother smiling but also mildly concerned. "P-phone." She stammered out, and her grandmother headed to the stairs on command to pick up the phone and start talking. Then there was someone tapping her other shoulder. Glancing up, she saw the agent's face with furrowed brows scanning her face. "I'm fine." She said, regardless of not being asked.  
  
Clint didn't look to believe her and instead led her by tugging her jumper sleeve to two seats in the corner and handing her over her juice box which she grasped weakly, still wide-eyed and blinking slowly. The two sat silently together beside the window while everyone continued as normal, but for Evelyn, all the noise seemed to blur together in a haze as her mind worked to understand what the hell just happened.  
  
the thing to break her from her trance was her grandmother coming out from the stairs and closing the door behind her.  
  
"Who was it?" Clint asked since Evie didn't.  
  
"My friend Katheryn calling to say she wasn't coming," Irene responded before taking another look at her granddaughter and creasing her brow. "You look practically pallid, dear. Who did you think it was?"  
  
Evie's mouth worked for a second before speaking, "No one. I just didn't recognise the voice. Or why they knew my name." She excused weakly.  
  
"Oh, she probably realised it was you from all the times I've talked about you before," Her grandmother replied.  
  
"Sings your praises all the time." Raymond entered the room, smiling and drinking a can of something Clint recognised as alcoholic.  
  
"Thank you," Evie responded. Then she glanced up at Clint still staring in concern. "I think I need a second outside."  
  
  
The two made it outside with little hassle, closing the front door and standing in the front garden together alone.  
  
"What's wrong, Evie? You're really shaken." Clint folded his arms, a small chill coming from the breeze that accompanied the rain still going. But at least they were dry under the front door awning.  
  
"I thought I heard..." Evie's voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper. And she wasn't looking at him.  
  
"You thought you heard what?"  
  
"I know I said I don't believe in the paranormal, but I swear I heard the voice of a ghost on that phone." She told him.  
  
Clint hummed. "A ghost? Do you see dead people?" He heightened his pitch.  
  
"I thought I heard my mother, Clint." She said bluntly. "I can't have, though. Because that's impossible since she's dead."  
  
Clint blinked, pausing. Evie folded her arms as her eyes went to the quickly forming puddles on the floor.  
  
"You... what?" He managed out.  
  
"Yeah. My mom's dead." She swallowed. "Surprise." The teenager made a gesture somewhat like jazz hands which seemed somewhat out of place for the secret or story being revealed.  
  
Barton dropped his head, feeling a number of emotions and questions swirling around his head and stomach. "When?" He asked gently, but with a hint he would back off if asked, knowing all too well what she could be feeling.  
  
"When I was three. A car crash on the highway. Drunk drivers negligent fault, they said. I was being babysat at the time." She replied quietly and leaned back on the house wall, shaking her head and taking in a deep breath.  
  
"What about your dad?" Clint asked carefully.  
  
"My father? I don't know where he is. And to be honest, I don't care to know." She snorted and shrugged her crossed arms,  
  
"He was left with me after mom died. According to grandma, following the accident, the prick turned to try and drink away his time and money, and then he neglected me. I was too young to remember much about it. I still can't remember much about it now. I barely remember his face. Then he dumped me here at age four and never looked back. My grandparents haven't mentioned him ever trying to reach back out to us and since I don't remember much of an emotional connection between us ever he can do whatever the fuck he wants. But the people who raised me are the ones who are my family, in my opinion. Not the ones who abandoned me."  
  
Clint couldn't help but think on his own life in comparison. Barney. The butcher's shop. The travelling circus. Everything. And their stories were so similar. His abusive drunken father, and both his parents in the car crash...  
  
"I used to have a brother." He blurted out to her. Evie looked up at him with a confused hum, still kind of out of it. "I still do I should say, since he isn't really dead. Or he could be, I don't know either. But we grew up together, we were actually orphaned as kids after our parents... yeah. Jumping from foster home to foster home, we ended up running away together and found somewhere that took us in and raised us, but even that didn't last too long. As we grew older, the two of us seemed to drift apart, and eventually, our paths split off. I've barely heard from him since, and that was over ten years ago." Clint shook his head with a shaper breath, rubbing his face with one hand and the other gripping the material of his jeans.  
  
A hand on his upper arm made him look back at the girl, looking up at him with shining green eyes. Innocent. Hurt. "You don't have to talk about it." She broke the rain-filled silence. "I understand." She said. Clint had no doubt she did, at least a little. Even if she was naive to the parts he left out.  
  
He swallowed, nodding, and that gentle, reassuring hand on his arm didn't leave but it slid down to hold his hand instead. The elder found it a heavy comfort. Then it was quiet again.  
  
"You want a hug?" Evelyn asked, gently. Clint looked at her. "No one's gonna call you out for needing one, Clint. Come on. What have we been through together already?" She nudged his shoulder with her own. And he had to yield to that. Opening his arms, he accepted her embrace as she rested her head on his shoulder, and he wrapped her arms around her tightly.  
  
"There you go. See? You're fine." She whispered against him, and Barton wasn't clear on whether she was talking to him or herself.  
  
They stayed like that for a while, quiet, losing track of time but neither cared. It didn't matter. All they needed to know was that the other was okay and that they could still feel them breathing in their arms. And that was all they could give each other.  
  
Evie took in a long breath, breaking the silence again, but what she mumbled was lost in Clint's shoulder.  
  
Clint angled his face to try and look at her expression hidden in his shirt. "What?"  
  
"I kinda want a cigarette," Evie repeated, pulling her face up.  
  
"Have you ever smoked?"  
  
"No." The teen answered.  
  
Clint raised an eyebrow. "Then how do you know you want one?"  
  
"Clint, I thought I just heard the voice of my dead mother through my grandma's phone. Do you really have to ask?" Her grip on him tightened momentarily.  
  
Barton sighed, resting his head on hers. "I'm not giving you or getting you a cigarette." He told her gently but firmly.  
  
"I wasn't asking you to. I just said I kinda wanted one." She responded gently, then seemed to drop the matter, as well as her arms from around Clint, taking a step back and shaking herself out. "I think we should probably go back inside now."  
  
"Do you want to stay?" Clint glanced at the door, then back.  
  
"This is my grandparent's party, so I have a responsibility to stay." Evie shrugged.  
  
"You're pretty shaken up. It might be best for you to go home now. I'm sure your grandparents will understand." Clint patted her shoulder.  
  
Evelyn swallowed, glassy eyes finding his. "I-I don't want to be alone," She admitted the truth.  
  
That, Clint understood. And it was what caused him to reach out and pull her into another hug. "You're not alone." He shook his head, hand rubbing circles on her back as she gripped his arms, pulling him impossibly closer. "If that's one thing you're not, you're not alone." He promised her, pressing a gentle kiss to her hair before resting his hand on the back of her head, thumb stroking the strands it tangled itself through.  
  
"Not anymore. Never again. I promise."


	33. Arrow

**Thursday morning - Farmer's Market**  
Thursday was probably the calmest day of the entire week. Or at least the morning was. And wandering the Farmer's Market that morning seemed a welcome reprieve. At least, until Clint noticed that Evie's mind seemed to be elsewhere when she walked into her third stall sign of the day. There was knocking yourself out when shopping, and then there was literally just knocking yourself out.  
  
"You alright?" Clint finally asked as Evelyn steadied the swinging sign with her hands.  
  
"I may or may not be having an existential crisis." She responded with a dry chuckle. The archer raised an eyebrow as he handed over his purchases to the stall manager. "Clint, this is our last week at this. I have no job, no college that has accepted me, in trouble with some spy organisation that isn't supposed to exist, and I don't want to keep living off my grandparents with nothing to do with my life. What do I do? What do I do? What do I do?" Evie was clearly having a minor mental breakdown.  
  
"Hey, hey, hey, calm down. Calm it. Easy. Relax." Clint put his hands on her shoulders, shaking her a little to get her to focus.  
  
"I can't relax. I've got nothing." The teen held her hands apart as if to convey that feeling of literally holding nothing.  
  
Barton struggled for something to think of quickly. "You've got... me?" Clint tried. The girl's expression fell flat. "What I mean by that is that even if you don't have a job, I'm not stopping you from coming to mine. I could offer you a proper job at my house and pay you like I've done the last two weeks."  
  
"It wouldn't be the same," Evie said, head shaking dismissively.  
  
"Why not?"  
  
"It just wouldn't. You'd be turning back into my boss again rather than my... friend." She folded her arms, looking away to avoid his eyes. Or perhaps to draw attention to the woman patiently watching and holding his bagged items and change.  
  
"Just until you get a job, then. I'll help you. I can write you a reference and I'm sure Nat would be happy to as well. There are a few auto shops around the city that are looking for new staff." Clint dropped his hands from her shoulders. "All you have to do is ask, and you'll get help."  
  
Evie looked down, scuffing a sneaker against the street floor. "I've never really had many people to ask before."  
  
"As I said, now you have me."  
  
"Don't get sappy on me. We had our moment yesterday. I can't handle too many emotions in one week, I need my rest, Clint." She may have rolled her eyes with the statement but she was smiling too.   
  
"Yes, being a human is so exhausting." Clint put a hand to his head, feigning a dainty look.  
  
"You sound like Nat."  
  
"Nat sounds like me, okay?" Clint crossed his arms, scowling a little. Evie chuckled, before clearing her throat and nodding behind him. Barton looked to see the stall woman still watching them with his items and change, He took it with thanks and turned back to the teenager to meet a hand ruffling his hair like a little puppy dog.  
  
The agent took a second to form his next sentence with a raised eyebrow. "Why?"  
  
Evie shrugged with a satisfied smirk. "Felt like it. Now, are you done pampering yourself and your delicate skin or can we go?"   
  
  
Walking back to the barn and unloading everything from their bags, Clint made a quick lunch of chicken salad to be finished quickly. Lucky happily curled around Evie's legs as she finished more than Clint had come to expect of her, and kept his small sense of pride internal in case she grew defensive and thought he was mocking her. Cleaning up and away, the two found themselves stuck for things to do, and ended up in the barn, using various pieces of equipment and playfully jeering at each other when they caught them mislaying a punch or tripping up on the skipping ropes...  
  
...okay, that was mainly Evie doing the screwing up on both of those. Whatever. Shut up. She isn't a professional assassin, so what?  
  
It was only when Clint picked up his bow off the wall, thrusting his arm in and out to unfold it when Evie took a break from the punching bag to watch, leaning on it instead as she caught her breath. Barton picked up his quiver, sliding it onto his back and choosing a target out of the numerous to aim for.  
  
"You know, in all the time I've been here, I've never actually seen you shoot that thing. Other than the time in the kitchen." The teen spoke up as Clint chose one high up and padded on the wall, almost touching the ceiling.  
  
"I made a point of avoiding it when you were here because of that incident. Though I could probably do with some practice." He pulled out an arrow, quickly nocking it and pulling his arm back, aiming up.  
  
"Can I watch?" Evie hopped up onto a nearby hay bale. Clint turned his head, brow furrowed as the rest of him remained in stance. Evelyn shrugged. "I'm curious. I've never shot a bow before. Or seen someone shoot one." She said, plainly.  
  
Clint considered her for a moment, releasing the arrow while still looking her way. A telltale thunk of impact confirmed the infamous Hawkeye legend of never missing. He twisted back to the target and fired an additional two arrows, both landing in the centre ring of the target paper as expected.  
  
The archer manoeuvred his bow to sit diagonally across his body before moving around in the hay beside Evie, searching a set of cases that had been previously conspicuously covered in the hay before retrieving an item and putting it into the teenager's hands with a gentle tap.  
  
"I have a few bows but the one you'll probably handle better is the compound. It has a sight and a few other things that make it easier to shoot and it's typically used with target archers so they can build strength and develop technique. But, I usually prefer to use a recurve bow, which is lighter and more manoeuvrable, making it easier to track a moving target. As you can tell, for someone like me, that's important." Clint tugged her sleeve to get her to jump off the bales and onto the floor before guiding her further back away from the targets.  
  
"You have more than one bow?" Evie asked, the bow in her hands feeling heavy and foreign.  
  
Clint stopped her a good distance away from the targets closest to the floor, shifting her into place. "A marksman should have more than one gun, shouldn't he? And a swordfighter should have more than one sword?" He mumbled mindlessly as he moved her around.  
  
Evie scrunched her face at him. "Swordfighter?"  
  
Clint paused, realising what he had blurted. "I uh... I can use a sword. Its something I picked up growing up."  
  
"That's a pretty weird thing to pick up."  
  
"I might explain later. For now, I need you to focus." Clint brushed it off, moving to stand at her side.  
  
"This is a compound bow. That means it has a sight. And you have this release clip on your pulling hand." His calloused fingers scratched against the softer skin of her hands, slightly unwinding the bowstring strength and relocating Evie's hands to the correct handling places. Once he was satisfied, he removed an arrow from his quiver and handed it over. "Now, stand with your feet shoulder width apart and your arms parallel to the floor... no, you're a bit unsteady. Hang on." Clint tapped her right underarm to hint her to move up a little. She did on command and he steadied her arm. "Right. Put the arrow in and clip it starting to pull back slightly. Point the magnified sight at the target, and make sure to pull back using the muscles in your back, rotating your scapula with your shoulders down. The scapula is the shoulder blade."  
  
"I know what a scapula is, Hawkeye," Evie said as she nocked the arrow and pulled back as asked. It was fairly stiff, but for someone like Evie who worked out often, the tensile strength on the bow was an almost perfect match. Perhaps if she was serious about learning and wanted to stick around after the summer as he'd suggested, Clint would actually get one for her that matched her.  
  
Clint fixed her posture one more time as her back began bowing too far in the wrong direction. "Pull the string back to your chin and then release." He instructed, taking a careful step back as he watched her posture as she released.  
  
 _ **Thwack.**_  
  
"...Okay. Well, I didn't expect you to be perfect on your first try," Clint said gently, watching the arrow wobble in place in the load-bearing column it struck a good two metres from the target they'd aimed for.  
  
"I'll fix it. Promise." Evie cringed as Clint stepped around her and retrieved it, leaving a clear hole in the wood.  
  
"It's okay. We can try a few more times." He brought the arrow back to her, handing it over and taking a step back. "Right. Stand like I showed you and try again." She took a few breaths before pulling her arms into position. She only needed slight prompting to raise her arms minutely again, this time. "And release."  
  
 _ **Thud.**_  
  
"Yay..." The teen didn't sound as enthusiastic as she could have, but the fact she'd hit the target this time was still prompting her to smile a little.  
  
"Better. You're probably not going to get much closer to the centre other than some lucky shots." The arrow has struck the very outer ring of the target, wobbling in place as it stuck.  
  
"But if you practised, I think we'd have the makings of a Little Hawk on our hands."  
  
Evelyn spun around at the sound of the female voice in the doorway. "Natasha!" She smiled brightly at the redhead leaning in on the barn door, arms folded and smirking at the two.  
  
She waved to Evelyn before looking at Clint. "How was your Monday, Barton?"  
  
"You know exactly how it was. How was yours, Romanoff?" Clint squinted his eyes at her, accusingly.  
  
"Coulson may be tenacious but he doesn't really have anything on me so... I'm off the hook for this one. But you, on the other hand, have become the talk of SHIELD." She folded her arms, stepping further into the room.  
  
"Ugh."  
  
"It's not so bad, really. Just a few whispers among the newer recruits that the great and infamous Hawkeye screwed up with the big bosses," Nat continued with a smile.  
  
"That must be fun for them," Evie said.  
  
Nat shrugged softly. "Its the most interesting thing to happen for them since Clint snuck nerf weapons into the vents."  
  
Evie glanced at the archer. "You did that? And you treat  _me_ like a child?"  
  
"I'll just take my bow back then-"  
  
"Noooooo." Evie took a few steps back from his grabby hands, cradling the oversized weapon to her chest as comfortably as a bow could be cradled.  
  
"Little Hawk in the making, like I said." Natasha petted Evie's head and the girl glared, but it was softer than the glares aimed at Clint for doing the same.  
  
"That is  _not_ going to be my nickname."  
  
"Oh, I don't know. I think it sounds sweet." Clint smirked, arms folding.  
  
"I'd shoot this at you if I had more than a ten percent chance of hitting you." Evie declared, pointing the bow his way.  
  
"Try shooting the target again, instead, then." He gestured to the targets with a sweeping arm.  
  
Evie scrunched her mouth to the side. "I'm not really in the mood anymore," She admitted quietly.  
  
"No one gets better without practice." Clint put his hands on his hips like a sassy mother hen.  
  
"Well, what about you? You should get some practice in too. Or if you're not shooting a bow maybe spar a little, instead." She shrugged back to Barton.  
  
The archer nodded his head side to side before beginning to stretch out his arms above his head. "You might have a point, actually. Though with the mood I'm in, I don't feel like pulling my punches so I'd rather not with you. Widow? You up for it?"  
  
Nat smiled softly. "Why not? It's been a while. And Evie can watch me happily knock you on your ass." She winked at the teen.  
  
"Don't get her hopes up." Clint scoffed, moving back into the clear space of the barn.  
  
"Too late. Revenge!" Evie smiled, thrusting her hands in the air victoriously and nearly knocking herself out in the process.  
  
Clint raised an eyebrow, moving further into the barn centre. "Revenge for what?"  
  
The teen shrugged, "I don't know. But revenge!" She declared with a grin and triumphant fist in the air, and Clint chuckled at the distraction.  
  
Such a distraction, in fact, that he missed Widow's leg coming to kick him in the side of the head.  
  
Their fight was not something that could be described easily, in Evie's eyes. Both were easily identifiable as professionals, moving swiftly and with an air of almost arrogant elegance together as they sparred. And though she'd felt slightly annoyed at the 'pulling his punches' comment from earlier, Evelyn could see why maybe it was a good idea for him to be fighting Natasha instead, as the two practically tossed one another around the place but seemed to somehow be having a good time while kicking the shit out of each other for a while.  
  
Evie had put Clint's bow back where she'd seen him retrieve it, carefully closing the case before turning back to the fight. It lasted longer that Evelyn was expecting, but then again, assassins and secret agents with high endurance levels from being out in the field for years? Yeah. It was gonna take a while for one to submit, even if they were only play-sparring.  
  
But, soon enough, Natasha trapped Clint in a choke-hold between her thighs and the agent tapped out. Nat decidedly pretended not to notice for an additional ten seconds before acquiescing and letting Barton breathe. His red face and where Widow had been choking him with made Evie remember her late night scrolling online on her soon-to-die laptop and prompted her to speak.  
  
"Hey, hey, guys. An assassin is sat in a bar-"  
  
"Oh, here we go." Both assassins groaned at the sound of the start of another joke they must have already been all too familiar with or heard a dozen times.  
  
"-And a guy comes up to him one day and says,  _"Are you the guy who charges $10,000 a bullet?"_  and the assassin says yes. The man says  _"Okay, we'll I've got $20,000. I just found out my wife is having an affair with my best friend. They're at the motel together right now."_  Both the man and assassin drive to a store across the street from the motel and climb up on the roof. The assassin takes out his rifle and attaches the scope.  _"They're in room 21. I want you to shoot her in the head, and I want you to blow his dick off."_ The assassin looks through his scope. He keeps staring for several minutes, not taking the shot.  _"Well? What are you waiting for!?"_ The husband asks. And the assassin replies " _Hold on a minute. I think I can save you $10,000"_."  
  
A moment of silence passed, in which Natasha slowly broke out into a grin while the archer grew increasingly confused.  
  
"Save you ten thousa- oh, for fuck's sake, Evelyn..."  
  
And for the next fifteen minutes, Clint continued to loudly lecture about the sanctity and discipline of assassins over the sound of Natasha laughing her ass off.


	34. Paperwork

**Friday morning**  
There were puddles on the street from the downpour the night before. It had been like the heavens broke open and swallowed the city for a few hours in a flood of water usually reserved for winter. But somehow it had managed to still be the same temperature as the day before once it hit the morning, and so it was mostly drying up as fast as it had rained down.  
  
Evelyn had woken up with a soaked windowsill and section of her carpet because she'd forgotten to shut the window, like an idiot, and then spent most of her morning trying to get rid of the damp smell and drying her sodden textbooks with a hairdryer. Great start.  
  
Getting to Clint's on time, somehow, she realised lucky wasn't in the garden like usual. And Clint was nowhere in sight either, but the car was present. Walking inside, she yelled out a quick  _"Clint?"_  and heard a _"Kitchen!"_  in response along with a single bark, making her way through the living room and into the kitchen.  
  
The first thing to notice was Clint was in uniform. His SHIELD uniform. [Vest ](https://vignette.wikia.nocookie.net/ironman/images/5/55/Photo%28282%29.jpg/revision/latest?cb=20130705150439)and logo and all. Evelyn had never seen him in uniform before or at least hadn't imagined it looked like that, though she guessed in terms of movability and functionality it made sense.  
  
The second thing to notice was Lucky blissfully lying on his back and having his belly stroked.  
  
By Agent Coulson.  
  
"Evelyn..." Clint started softly, and Evie peeled her slightly wider than normal eyes away from the suit-wearing man _-how was he still wearing a suit in this weather, like wtf dude?-_  to the archer. He looked to have discerned her sudden panic, and his expression resembled  _'I can see you panicking. Please don't panic. I need you to be calm right now.'_. Not that that made the teen feel much better or less uneasy in the slightest. Not with Mr MIB sat at the table calmly sipping coffee like he owned the farm. Or would this be ' _bought_ the farm'? Hell if Evie knew.  
  
"Miss Summers." Coulson stood from the table, hands fastening the front of his jacket. "Nice to see you again."  
  
"You too. And I told you already, just call me Evelyn." It was then that she spotted the third notable thing - the stack of papers littering the kitchen table. "What's uh... what's going on?" She gestured vaguely.  
  
"Paperwork." Agent Coulson said.  
  
Evie clapped her hands. "Great, so I'm gonna go play with Lucky outside while you get that done." She was already in the living room at the mention of the dog.  
  
"Evelyn!" Clint called.  
  
"Lucky!" She called back from the porch, the dog quickly scampering after her at his call.  
  
The archer didn't try to chase after her and the dog, muttering "traitor" under his breath at the canine running away from responsibility before shifting his eyes back to Coulson staring at him, unamused.  
  
"She doesn't seem like too much outside of the Director's office," Phil commented, sitting back down in his seat.  
  
"There's more to her than it seems. Believe me. You heard what she said to Director Fury, you just need to give her a chance and an opportunity to prove it to you." Clint tried his best to defend the teenager, nursing his coffee cup with fidgeting fingers.   
  
"Yes, I heard her. I heard her, and I also heard you, Agent Barton." Phil half-smiled. Clint furrowed his brow. "She's a lot like you were. Are, I should say. I could practically see you shining through her when she sat in Fury's office that day. And I did see why you like her. But that doesn't always mean that that's the wisest decision to choose. You know we've made mistakes before."   
  
"Phil..." The use of his first name was always more intimate for both of them, and it always felt like the first time again when Clint was comfortable enough around the agent to use the name. It had taken years but then, after a long arduous mission, it had slipped out with barely any forethought, and a part of Coulson was always swelled with pride when he heard it. "You know me better than anyone in that building. You trust me."   
  
Coulson nodded "You're right. That's why I brought this to you." He flicked through the pages of the files spread over the table. Then his face grew suddenly more serious. "You could lose her, you know."  
  
"Yeah, I know."  
  
"No, Clint." Phil leaned forward in his seat, eyes locking with the young archer. That stare, that was the one that made Clint feel like a young rascal again, right from his early years in SHIELD where he was a regular runt. It made him feel small, like a child. "You, Could. Lose. Her." Coulson sounded out every word with dangerous emphasis, almost as dangerous as the missions Clint had previously experienced and almost never returned from.  
  
He'd never liked that tone. Ever. It always put him off balance, practically slapped him upside the head with the reminder of what it was he actually did day-to-day for a living. What he'd done in the past and continued to do in the present. It made him think, it made him worry. Most of all, it made him scared.  
  
"Uh, Clint?" Clint broke from his though spiral and looked to the doorframe of the kitchen and didn't know whether to reprimand Evie for sneaking up on them like that, or to laugh. She was stood shifting from foot to foot with Lucky sat happily panting beside her, tail wagging feverishly. "We got a little overexcited."  
  
"What happened?" Phil questioned.  
  
"Lucky ran off into the field chasing a rabbit or something and I tried to catch him. And since it rained last night the field was kind of..." The two of them were caked from head to toe in mud. Shoes, paws, clothes, everything, even a streak of mud where she seemed to have tried to wipe it off and made a bigger mess was clearly evident to the two men.  
  
Coulson turned to Clint. "You do have a knack for finding friends, don't you, Barton?" It sounded like he was smiling regardless of his blank expression. The tone was smug enough anyone would believe he was.  
  
"Heh..." Clint laughed weakly before looking back to the teen. "You wanna use the shower? I'm sure something upstairs will fit you and I can wash your stuff in the meantime."  
  
Evie looked down at the canine brushing against her leg with an innocent whine, and pointed. "Shouldn't we bathe Lucky first? I mean, he's kind of making a puddle where he's sitting." The dog in question barked happily as if he was proud of his achievement.  
  
Clint looked to Coulson. "Go on." The handler said as if Clint had needed permission.  
  
"Sir." Barton nodded and led the mucky pup upstairs. And then called for Lucky to follow.  
  
  
After a long, long shower filled with vigorous scrubbing because mud gets fucking  _everywhere_ , Evie was dressed in an oversized shirt, jeans, and hoodie that made her slender figure look even thinner, and Clint found himself making plans on doubling her lunch portion today. They both dragged Lucky into the bath after her and together washed the canine, even though Clint protested since he'd only just gt her clean, and Lucky had the tendency to shake out his fur and make a bigger mess than they started with. Evie, after a considerable amount of arguing, begrudgingly resigned herself to sitting on the closed toilet lid while Clint massaged in the shampoo and held the showerhead in his other hand.  
  
It was quiet for a long while, but Evie was the first to break the almost-silence. "That was a lot of paperwork to deal with, Clint."  
  
He knew she wasn't stupid. She would know there was something up. "We need to have a long talk, Evelyn." Clint sighed, washing out the suds from Lucky's fur.  
  
"I don't like the sound of that." She said, folding her arms.  
  
"Neither do I. But we do need to talk about it," Clint responded, calmly washing out the rest of Lucky's fur and diving out of the way when the dog attempted to dry himself. Evelyn passed him a towel as Clint drained the bath, standing beside him as they tugged Lucky to stand on the bath mat.  
  
"Agent Coulson came today with a lot of SHIELD sanctioned paperwork. It seems him and Fury have made a decision about you."  
  
"Uh-huh..?" Evie nodded slowly as Clint finished drying Lucky and let him run out of the bathroom, barking happily, and running back to the kitchen to seek a certain Agent's attention.  
  
Barton stood up from kneeling on the mat. "Take a walk outside with me."  
  
"You sure that's a good idea after what just happened?"  
  
"We'll be staying in the garden."  
  
  
Evelyn followed the archer outside to the secluded garden and down on the bench as directed.  
  
"Right. Like I said, Fury and Coulson and a few other high-ups in SHIELD have made a decision on you." He sat down on his side of the bench.  
  
"Well, don't I feel special?" Evie joined him.  
  
Barton's expression was half humour, half grimace. "According to the paperwork and a long phone call with Director Fury before you arrived, you, as of right now, have two options."  
  
Clint held up both hands, and one finger on each, "Option one. You sign a confidentiality agreement, legally binding you to not speak a word of SHIELD to members of the general public, that includes but is not limited to; knowledge of organised events, classified locations, branded documents, mission information, basically anything I've ever told you or you saw when I took you to headquarters. That is also including without limitation all information relating to conversations you and me, you and Natasha, you and Agent Coulson, you and Director Fury, or you and any other member of SHIELD staff have had remains unspoken of."  
  
"Clint. you're giving me a headache."  
  
"All of which comes with  _very_ limited exceptions," The archer continued, before putting one finger down. "Now, second option." He waved his second hand.  
  
"I'm already dizzy."  
  
"Your second option is as follows: Option two, you are still to sign a confidentiality agreement with all the previously mentioned restrictions, that part is non-negotiable whichever option you choose. However, this option also permits you to sign a form of application."  
  
"Form of appllica- wait- wha- what now?"  
  
Clint started smiling. "You see, Director Fury and Coulson both consider the option that instead of just leaving you with and possibly an additional consequence of breaking off all communications with me-" Clint kept his finger up when Evie made a whine of complaint at the comment to silence her. "-they think it might be a nice idea to offer you a trial run as a member of the Strategic Homeland Intervention Enforcement and Logistics Division."  
  
"What?" Was the only word Evie managed to get out of her mouth, brain short-circuiting.  
  
"You would have a month's long trial run that regular agent recruits would experience. I can explain all that for you in detail later if you want. At the end of the trial, if everyone believes this is not the right fit for you, then we're back to option one and most likely cutting all ties to me too. However, if it turns out you're really good at this and Fury and Coulson agree, they may offer to keep you on as a member, provided you wanted that. Staying as a member would mean getting a regular agent SHIELD ID, access to facilities, full time or part-time job depending on living situations. Uh, dental plan - so helpful. And you'd also have a handler."  
  
"A handler?"  
  
"Someone like me or Natasha to look over and guide you," Clint explained.  
  
Evie snorted, "If I had you to look over and guide me, I definitely wouldn't last the trial month."  
  
"Oh, ha, ha. But I'm being serious, Evelyn. This is completely up to you. I don't want you doing anything you're not comfortable with just because you think me or Nat want you to." Clint put his hand on her shoulder softly.  
  
Not even a blink, she was smiling. "Aw. You're worried you're pressuring me." She pouted out her bottom lip, teasingly.  
  
"Why do I even try to ever be serious with you?" Clint tossed his hands in the air before scrubbing his face with them instead.  
  
Evie shuffled up the bench so her knee knocked against his. "Hey." She said gently, and Clint just stayed bent over, elbows on knees with his head in his hands. "Do you want me to do this?"  
  
Clint peeked his eyes out over his fingers. She was looking at him with the innocence of a child that knew full well what she was getting into and was considering it anyway. "It was me who suggested it to them both," He answered quietly.  
  
The teen blinked. "Why would you do that?"  
  
"I don't know. It just felt like it could be worth something. And like we talked about yesterday, you don't have a job other than here and you aren't going to college so there's not much else you're doing right now, is there?" Clint shrugged, sitting up and stretching out.  
  
Evie looked the archer up and down. He was still in his SHIELD uniform. It itched something right in the back of her mind. "Do you think I'd be any good? No lying to spare my feelings, by the way. You may have presented this as an option but it doesn't mean you think I can do it."  
  
Clint looked at her seriously. "I think you'd be a good member. And being a member doesn't necessarily mean you have to be a field agent. You could also work in the tech lab or medical. Hell, you could be someone in HR. You'd be surprised how many people use the therapy SHIELD offers as part of their employee plan."  
  
"Do you ever go to therapy?"  
  
"I will admit I've been a few times. Usually after coming down from missions that were just a bit too loud or rough." Barton said, honestly. Evie hadn't expected it, but she had asked, so she didn't feel like she should say as much.   
  
It was a weird situation to be in. For anyone, really. Especially for someone who hadn't gone out of their way to find whatever she'd found and end up sat on a bench in the middle of a special agents' garden considering employment alongside him. On the one hand, she could just sign the thing and forget this all ever really happened. On the other was the great big mystery thing yelling in her face to come to check it out and only making her want to slide into bed and sleep for a year.  
  
Clint waved a hand in front of her face to wake her up. having been quiet for a worrying amount of time. "What are you thinking, Evelyn?"  
  
The teen chewed her lower lip a little harsher than she should have, ignoring the tang of blood filling her mouth with a sigh.  
  
"How long are they gonna give me to think it over?"


	35. First day

As it turns out, Evelyn got the weekend to think it over.  
  
The trials started on September 1st for all SHIELD applicants, therefore she had exactly two days to decide on what to do for the rest of her life.  
  
So, naturally, she spent it at her grandparents. A weekend filled with baking, birdwatching, and gardening, while also somehow making a mess of all three because she was so distracted by what she was supposed to be thinking about for Monday. So much so that she had been asked a soft "Is everything alright?" by both grandparents several times until Sunday when she finally broke, knowing it was either blurt it out or have a panic attack while holding a set of shears. And with her track record of injuries as of late...  
  
"Grandma?"  
  
"Yes, dear?" Irene set her tea mug down on the counter as she swallowed her hayfever medication, the one thing Evie hadn't managed to screw up over that weekend.  
  
Evelyn took a breath. Now or never. "What would you do if you were one day presented the chance to do something completely insane? But its a good thing. Like, its something that you're mildly involved in and then a much larger opportunity than you would even consider possible just drops into your lap because of a small disaster you caused?" She asked with the confidence of being caught with her hand in the cookie jar... in a cookie factory... with her pants down... and they were on fire... with her grandma looking at her with an expression crossing between incredulity and very high-level concern. "A completely hypothetical question," She tagged on the end with the most innocent smile she could muster.  
  
"Would this opportunity be incredibly dangerous to your health?" Irene picked up a cloth, cleaning up flour stains left over from the mess of baking earlier.  
  
Evie bit her lip. "Probably not?"  
  
Her grandmother took a few seconds to reply, scrubbing at the stubborn paste forming of water mixing with the flour powder. "Well,  _hypothetically_ speaking..." The look accompanying the word 'hypothetically' was not convinced at all. "...being the age you are, I would most definitely consider the dangers first. Because in my experience, anything with questionable hazards to health is definitely worth considering."  
  
"I  _am_ considering it. Hypothetically." She rushed the same word onto the end.  
  
The elder woman dropped the cloth on the counter. "Evelyn. Is there something you want to tell me?" That was the tone that brooked no argument. And Evelyn regretted ever bringing it up instead of just saying she wouldn't go through with it. But having enough respect for her grandmother to be able to talk to her about anything, she continued.  
  
"Remember how I said my summer job is finished now? And I don't have a college to go to?" She started with and received a hum in short response. "Well, my boss got me an interview kinda thing with a company he knows who want to give me a trial run for a month. I don't know whether to go for it or not."  
  
Irene blinked at the child. That sounded a lot less perilous than Evie had first made it out to be. "When is the trial?"  
  
"Monday."  
  
"Do you know what you will be doing?"  
  
Evie began fidgeting with her hoodie strings. "Kind of. I just know that it's going to be like nothing I've ever done before and probably harder than anything I've ever done before. It's a pretty exclusive company." She didn't look up from the hoodie toggles to speak the last part. She knew the look she was being given would prompt her to spill everything about SHIELD in a guilt-filled confession, so she wisely decided to drop her gaze and be as vague as she could get away with.  
  
Her grandmother sighed, "Well, you should at least go for the trial run, Evelyn. If you make it through, fantastic, and you have the option to choose what you do from there. If you don't, that's okay. And if you do fail and realise you do want that job, you can always reapply and find out what went wrong."  
  
"I don't think reapplying is something they'll accept."  
  
"Well, you asked for my opinion, dear, and I gave it to you. There's not much more I can do." The elder pressed a kiss to her cheek, picking up the tea mug again. "You could try asking Raymond but I doubt he'll be able to concentrate long enough to listen. He barely concentrates long enough to remember to bring the laundry in when it starts raining."  
  
  
So, come Monday morning, she was sat in the front passenger seat of Clint's car trying not to show how nervous she was. Though after the three times Clint had had to reach over and put a hand on her knee to still her bouncing leg, she was sure she was doing a crappy job at it. Not that Clint pointed it out, but that was probably just to save her from early embarrassment.  
  
Actually paying attention this time, Evelyn watched as the two disappeared off-road and into a private tunnel lane for a long stretch, only illuminated by blue lights, before emerging on the other side to a closed-off campus and the same building where she saw that amazing view from Fury's office. And the car soon stopped.  
  
Evie was suddenly holding her backpack in a vice grip, and it took a little coaxing to convince her to get out of the car because, you know, Clint needed to go to work too and couldn't exactly leave her there for the day. Eventually, she left the safety of the vehicle and looked up at the building that seemed more daunting than last time.  
  
"Wanna hold my hand?" Clint asked once he realised she wasn't following him across the parking lot.  
  
"I'm not a baby."  
  
"I never called you one." Clint still held his hand out. After a few seconds, she shook her head and Clint nodded, walking her inside anyway. She decided it probably already looked weird for this to be the second time he'd brought her here, but it would be the first time he properly intentionally left her alone in the building.  
  
Up to the desk and after a quick chat to the lady behind it, Clint was attaching a special lanyard around Evie's neck, detailing her status as a trainee before leading her through the corridors in a direction they hadn't gone last time. Following like a puppy, Evie and Clint navigated their way through the building until they came upon the first dead-ended corridor Evelyn had ever seen in this building and to the final door on the left side where Clint swiped his passcard and led Evelyn inside.  
  
It was a fairly large room with a set of stairs in the corner leading to a walkway above their heads where many men and women in suits were busy bustling by a SHIELD Eagle logo on the far wall. The ground floor was just as busy with marble flooring along with many desks and computer screens scattered around and one floor to ceiling window overlooking what looked like a big step up from a regular university campus. And in amidst the mess of people walking around her with various files and tech, a large group of younger agents seemed to have formulated in the centre of the marble flooring as if waiting for something.  
  
"And this is where I leave you to yourself." Clint declared, sending Evie back into the panic she had just clawed her way out of.  
  
"You what?" She whined at him.  
  
"Look, I'm not even supposed to be in this room. But I wanted to see you inside and I really have to go or Fury's gonna have my ass." Clint gave her hair a little ruffle as an attempt at being reassuring before turning on his heel and walking off, looking not at all out of place with his regular SHIELD uniform and bow slung across his back.  
  
"Clint?" The archer spun back around with a look of 'please hurry, my ass is on the line'. Evie nodded gently. "Thank you."  
  
Clint looked mildly confused, then grinned widely and nodded back, quickly disappearing out of the room and a guard Evelyn didn't notice before shut the door behind him before standing back to attention.   
  
Two claps from above grabbed her attention as she turned to look up at the walkway, where four men stood tall over the rest of the hall. Two appeared to be guards while one was a regular looking run of the mill SHIELD agent and the other was... Agent Coulson.  
  
"Welcome to your first day of the SHIELD Entry Examination Trials," Coulson began. Evie slowly moved to join the group on the centre also paying attention while everyone else in the room acted as if nothing existed outside their own minds. "Over this next month, you will be tested to understand if you can be assigned into any particular directorate of SHIELD that you may have applied for. If you believe you know what you are about to experience, you will be undoubtedly disappointed. This isn't like trying to get into Harvard or Oxford. It will be pretty much Hell on earth. You will be pushed to your limits, your skills will be tested to their furthest reach. Of course, you can leave whenever you want. And remember that only the ones of you who are accepted will be made official members of SHIELD. We wish you luck." He ended his speech with a short nod, and the crowd of trainees gathered together applauded his 'inspiring' speech.  
  
The second man in a suit walked forward to the railing of the walkway, clearing his throat before speaking loudly to the group. "Now if you can please separate yourselves into your assigned groups, we can begin this morning's assessments."  
  
  
Clint Barton, for once, had tried to focus on his paperwork. He had. He'd sat down with a clear head, pen and laptop at the ready to blast through some files whether they be paper or electronic, and even had a nice steaming cup of coffee sitting beside him to help him keep going for at least two hours.  
  
But he couldn't for the life of him focus for more than a few minutes before his thoughts drifted to Evelyn and how her day was getting along. Bad enough that he'd had to leave her unsupervised in a room full of strangers for the first time, but she was facing the first day of SHIELD Entry Examination Trials all on her own like he once had. Admittedly, things had been a little different since his time here as a newbie, but he knew that the basic training premise for recruits still stood hard and firm and above all, exhausting. Don't get it twisted, he wasn't worried she wouldn't be able to hack it, but the constant urge to get up from his desk and go spying in the vents like the old days itched at the back of his neck at just the right place he couldn't reach to scratch.  
  
"Hey, Hawkeye." Lucky Nat was there to help, or at least distract him by perching on the edge of his desk where there was little space uncovered by the paper sheets and files spread around. "So, hows Evie going on at her first day of Trials?"  
  
The agent picked up his plain porcelain mug. "I don't know. I haven't checked." Clint mumbled into his coffee.  
  
Nat paused, halfway to picking up a file beside her marked 'OVERDUE'. "You haven't checked yet? You? The guy that watches over that kid like a mother hen whenever she's around hasn't checked before lunchtime to see whether she's getting on okay?"  
  
"I do have a job to do here, you know. My badge says Level 7 SHIELD Agent for a reason, Romanoff." Clint tapped the side of his vest that his badge hung from, the laminated piece of crap ID shining proudly in the dim lights of the otherwise empty office.  
  
Romanoff wasn't so easily convinced, watching him put the empty coffee cup down. "So this is actually all work then?" The redhead picked up the file from before, flipping casually through the red marked pages. "It's all real? You're not just avoiding Coulson's fatherly stone glare for the day? We're not gonna find nerf guns stashed away in the ceiling again, are we?"  
  
Clint folded his arms, fixing her with a bored look. "Please stop being so surprised by the fact that I actually do my job, Red."  
  
"When it stops being a rarity, I'll stop. Promise," Nat smirked back at him, causing the assassin to roll his eyes, lean back, and open the paper file in his hands to rest on his face with a sigh.


	36. Broken glass

**6:47pm**  
It had been a long day. The longest either Evelyn or Clint could remember for a while. Well, it wasn't really much longer than their usual working day together, but with the new situation and the whole  _'Ah! SHIELD! Ah! New place! Ah! What am I doing?'_ it had been more than taxing on two already stressed out and tired minds.  
  
Proven further only when Clint pulled up outside Evelyn's apartments to find said teenager had fallen asleep against the window. Even when the car came to a halt, the girl had curled her arms around her head, leaning so much into the seatbelt it had stopped itself going further out of safety for the passenger. Clint sighed, putting the car into park.  
  
"Evelyn?" The archer prompted softly, trying not to freak her out. The girl remained unresponsive. "Ev-e-lyn." He sounded out each syllable, a little more firmly. He received a drowsy hum in response. "We're outside the apartments. If you wake up for just a few seconds, you can make it to bed rather than sleeping in the car."  
  
"Don' wannaaaa." The teenager whined into her arms, barely conscious enough to speak as she burrowed her face further into the comfort of her sleeves.  
  
Clint sighed, giving her a gentle shake on the shoulder to which she shrugged him off and caused him to warn, "Alright. Five minutes, then I'm getting you inside. Even if I have to carry you over my shoulder."  
  
"Tha's embarrassin'." She slurred into one arm, waving her other in a feeble protest lasting around one second before dropping. If Clint didn't know any better, he'd guess she was drunk.  
  
But being a mother Hawk had its perks at times, and there wasn't a drop of alcohol in the girl regardless of how long the day had been. "Five minutes. That's all." He warned again, reaching for the ignition.  
  
Evelyn grunted but didn't argue, and Barton turned the engine to the car off, stopping the gentle rumbling lulling even him to sleep. It wouldn't do for the two to fall asleep on the side of the road outside the apartment, especially considering what Clint did for a living and what Evelyn may be asked to do in the future.  
  
That disturbed Clint a little. He was proud of her, but if she ever went into the same area of SHIELD he did, if she ever did even a tenth of the things he had done in the years he'd been an agent... that wouldn't be Evelyn. Not anymore. And he almost hoped she stuck to the tech department and never did anything more. Selfish? Fine. As long as she stayed who she was and didn't let SHIELD or anyone else change her.  
  
He was probably just worrying about nothing.  
  
Well, actually, he was just falling asleep at the wheel. But before he could think to slap himself back into awakeness, his head hit the wheel and his vision blacked out.  
  
He stirred a little later, the sun had completely fallen by now. The archer checked his watch. _7:13pm._ Great. He'd passed out for about a half-hour alongside the kid. And without the sunlight, the car was getting cold.  
  
Glancing over to the obviously passed out teenager, he grabbed his keys from the ignition and braved it into the brisk night air now that the sun had fallen, closing his door and making his way over to Evelyn's side of the car, jolting her when the door she'd been leaning against suddenly moved and almost caused her to faceplant the sidewalk. Gently taking her arms and guiding her stumbling out of the car, he kicked the door closed, locking it and began leading her towards the door. Evelyn had enough consciousness in her to push the passcode in and get them inside, where they then faced the stairs. Why did she have to live on the top floor? And why didn't they have an elevator?  
  
Stumbling their way up three floors to the top and managing to get her keys in the door, Clint led Evelyn inside. The teen seemed a little more awake now, remembering to lock the door behind her before dumping her keys to the side and mumbling something about Clint helping himself to a drink or the bathroom if he wanted either. Barton helped her sit on the sofa as Evie shook off her sneakers and hoodie before deciding it was probably a good idea to use the bathroom.  
  
Returning in a few minutes, the girl's sneakers and coat were resting by the sofa but the teen had disappeared. Not wanting to just leave without a 'goodnight', Clint knocked softly on a closeby door before opening it to the sound of a tired grunt.  
  
He'd not actually seen her room before now, just the general living area and bathroom because he'd had to use it once.  
  
It was bland, similar to the rest of the apartment, but it was oddly cosy too. A double bed in the corner made to the standard of a teenager with no fucks left to give, a desk shoved beside it and stacked with textbooks and her laptop, a damp patch above the window opposite that was left open a crack to let a gentle breeze through and rustling the threadbare curtains that Barton guessed had been there since the apartment was first built. A chair sitting beside a wardrobe that seemed to be getting more use than the actual wardrobe at holding clothes showed Clint many t-shirts he recognised from previous days spent at the farm in her regular style, and a few he didn't with holes or worn in so much they might as well have had.  
  
It was cold now, and the kid had passed out on top of her sheets, so Clint walked over and shut the window before sliding the curtains closed to save her from waking up with a cold. Not the best thing for the second day trial-running at SHIELD. Especially if it chose to rain overnight again, which explained the damp patch above his head.  
  
Wandering back around to the kid who had been out as soon as she'd hit the mattress, he ruffled her hair with a quiet "See you in the morning, Evie" before exiting her room and taking the door keys, locking it behind him before sliding it under the tiny gap between the door and laminate flooring.  
  
Back outside within a minute and pulling out his own car keys, he paused on the pavement. One of his front tyres was deflating. And there was broken glass under his wheel that he was sure hadn't been there when he left the car just a few minutes ago. There were scratch marks on the rubber, purposeful, definitely no accident.   
  
Evelyn had been right when she said this was a bad neighbourhood.  
  
Barton looked back at Evie's apartment, her windows facing this side of the street. She really should move out of that place. He sighed, shaking his head and focussed on driving back to the farm to change it out before his tyre gave out on the streets.  
  
  
The next day was better for the both of them - Clint finally managing to get his head into his paperwork and Evie feeling a little less like she was in a thousand-mile labyrinth without an exit. Evelyn found that the trial month was set into four weeks:   
  
 _The first was an introduction week to advertise all the different areas SHIELD offered, a basic framework explanation as to how SHIELD worked and how far across the globe they reached.  
The second was physical training and field ops, combat training teaching and a practice run of how field operations would be acted out by recruits.  
The third was study and theory, which was more independent to the person and focused mainly on lectures rather than hands-on work.  
And the fourth was paper examinations and a final evaluation._  
  
They were basically going through a speed-trial for the month to see if recruits could handle the lifestyle, she gathered. And her stomach had managed to sink its way into the floor by the time she'd heard the description for week three. So that was great.  
  
Clint assured her she'd do fine. Evelyn nodded while trying not to bring her stomach  _all_  the way back up again. And sooner than expected, it was the end of the first week, and Barton and Summers were sat together in the car driving home. Both were quiet with the sounds of the radio playing overplayed 'classics' as they relaxed from the days' antics as the sun went down. Evelyn fiddled with her hoodie sleeves as Clint drove, and the movement had attracted the archers knowing attention.  
  
"Pent up energy from your anxiousness?" Clint chuckled softly.  
  
"It's physical training week next week," Evelyn said, not that Clint was unaware of that, and took in a deep breath as she straightened in her seat. "If you're not busy tomorrow, can I get a refresher course in the stuff you've already shown me? Just so I definitely know that I'm not gonna instantly get my face kicked in?"  
  
Clint reached over to let one hand squeeze her shoulder, assuringly. "Evelyn, stop freaking out so much. You'll be fine." He shook her gently with a shoulder pat.  
  
"Yeah, but Clint, the thing is I won't be." The car stopped at a red light.  
  
"Drama queen."  
  
"You can't say anything judging by what Nat's being telling me."  
  
"Oh, shut up." Evelyn stuck out her tongue to match Clint's own childish gesture. The two laughed as Clint started driving at the green light again. "Though you'd better eat right next week. You can forget about messing up during training if you end up passing out completely." He warned gently and she sighed, turning to look out of the window at the passing cars. "Look, if you really want me to go through a few things with you again on Saturday, alright, we'll do it if it will make you feel better. Maybe I can even show you the basics of shooting a gun."  
  
"You what?" Her head snapped back to him, eyes slightly wide.  
  
Clint considered that, keeping his eyes on the road as he mumbled, "I keep forgetting how much you don't actually know." His hands on the wheel tightened ever so slightly as he previous worries returned to him.  
  
Evelyn noticed, "Clint, are you... alright?" She asked cautiously. She didn't get much of a response past a nod. She stayed quiet for a second, moving her own eyes to the road as they neared the main streets. "There's barely anyone in my group that's my age, and none of them really seem interested in making conversation."  
  
Barton nodded, tightly. "They're all older and they're more experienced. I'll show you your way around a gun... and possibly some knives while we're at it."  
  
"Whoa, Clint. Calm down." Evie had said it as a joke, but the frown Clint wore on his features killed her joking smile. "Why are you so dark all of a sudden?" She prompted, looking him up and down and noting the rigid body language. She may not have been a professional spy but she could tell something was bugging him. Yet he refused to acknowledge the question and just keep focused on driving.  
  
The teen clicked her tongue and looked out of her window, leaning on an arm. "Okay then. Saturday. And I promise not to show up with a hangover."


	37. Friendly fire

**Monday - Trial Week 2**  
"Welcome to Week Two of your SHIELD Entry Examination Trials. This week will be focused on physical skill and combat training. Today will be an evaluation of the skills you already possess, and for the rest of the week, we will work on building everyone up to the same required level for your Week Four exams. We shall start with basic combat, and for this, you have been split into the following pairs: Spencer, you are paired with Hardison. Lightwood, you are paired with Bane. Summers, you are paired with Denver..."  
  
And so the list went on until the entire class was separated into pairs and everyone had found their corresponding partner. Evelyn located whoever's last name was 'Denver' and moved over to an empty set of mats out of the many that had been strategically laid out across the training room.  
  
"Thomas." The stout blond man, maybe in his early thirties or just had the misfortune to look older than his late twenties, introduced himself as he stuck out his hand to shake.  
  
She took it, nodding politely. "Evelyn- whoa!" Evelyn was suddenly facing the ceiling with a mildly burning back and skull as gravity laughed at her for being pulled down so easily. She looked up with a furrowed brow at the upside-down man filling her vision with a smug smirk on his lips.  
  
"Come on, sweetheart. You're trying to be an agent with those reflexes?" His raised eyebrow was way too calm for the self-satisfied grin that came with it.  
  
"Okay, so you're a dick. Good to know," Evelyn groaned, pulling herself up to sitting and rotating her neck.  
  
Thomas scoffed, "Hey, just because you didn't see that coming doesn't make me-" He landed with a thump on his conceited ass as his legs were swept from beneath him, letting out an "oof" as the tables turned faster than he'd expected.  
  
Sitting up to look at the girl standing up and stretching out, she just smiled at him. "What? You didn't see that coming?"  
  
And so the rest of the exercise went. For someone that hadn't done more than playfully -if not slightly pitifully- sparred with Clint a few times in the barn, she managed to hold her own against Denver quite well, though he was easily more skilful and she ended up on her ass on the mat at least double the number of times he did. Regardless, she wasn't helpless, and that was enough for her... as well as being able to knock the cocky smirk off of her partner's face whenever she pulled off a manoeuvre he didn't expect.  
  
  
After being assessed and marked on training, the pairs were gathered together and congratulated on their varying levels of skill. That seemed ever so slightly condescending but overall gained no complaints from the recruits as none were looking to be kindly escorted out of the building to never return. After the short consultation, the group was directed out of the gym and into the shooting range set up for a primary weapons demonstration, specifically testing the knowledge and understanding the students had of how to shoot a basic handgun.  
  
They were given a demonstration by a professional, then split into pairs once again to practice together.  
  
Unfortunately, the partners remained the same as last time.  
  
Evelyn stood to the side watching with folded arms as her partner loaded a fresh magazine into the firearm. He'd insisted he should go first, and to be honest, the teen didn't really care. She was too busy trying to remember everything Clint had sped through with her on Saturday compared to the demonstration she watched a few minutes before. Clint had clearly tried dumbing it down for her because this demo seemed heavily detailed and specific compared to the basic do-this-do-that she'd received.  
  
Three shots in quick succession pulled her sharply from her thoughts to spy on the target across the hall. She felt a spike of annoyance at how accurate he was - not exact bullseyes but very very close.  
  
Thomas glanced to his side to see if Evelyn was looking, and she was, before their eyes met and she looked away with tighter folded arms and an eye roll. Thomas smirked for a moment before schooling his features and emptying the rest of the magazine to the target, all similar results to the first three being close to dead-centre but just slightly off.  
  
"You're good," Evelyn admitted, begrudgingly, as the paper was brought forward on a line to the front of the firing table.  
  
The blond hummed, taking the page down. "My father taught me how to shoot a gun."  
  
Evelyn paused, turning her head with a look of bewilderment. "Why?"  
  
"My father is ex-military so I grew up in the environment. He usually had a sanctioned firearm in the house. I asked him one day to teach me around my teenage years how because I was curious. He didn't seem surprised although he did ask me why I suddenly interested."  
  
"I would be a little concerned if my kid suddenly up and asked, particularly as a teen." Evelyn picked up a fresh target paper and attached it to the line, rolling it back into the back of the firing range.  
  
Denver held up the gun to her and happily declared "Your turn." Then upon seeing her hesitation he smirked and huffed, "Don't tell me you've never handled a gun before, Summers."  
  
She shook her head. "I've shot a gun before." Two days prior to then, to be exact.  
  
"Would you like me to load it for you, sweetheart?" Thomas was already emptying the barrel and refilling it before Evelyn managed to get a complaint out about that pet name being used for the second time today. She let it go for now as he restocked the gun and handed it over with the safety on.  
  
She got into her stance and aimed up, only managing to fire one round before Denver was back to talking with "Who taught you how to shoot a gun?"  
  
"A friend," Evie said, bluntly.  
  
"Interesting friend."  
  
"You have no idea." She mumbled under her breath, rolling her shoulders out. She did a double-take back at the male when she noticed him staring with an unclear expression. From this close, she could make out the little details in his eyes, the same colour as the silver metal casing of the handgun in her hold. "What?"  
  
"Nothing. Go ahead." He shook his head and gestured down to the target.  
  
Evie shook it off and aimed up again, looking down the front sight and firing another two rounds at the paper outline. All three had hit the outer target line. "Not very accurate."  
  
"I've not had much practice. And at least I know how."  
  
"You're messing up the basic rules. Your hand is too far down on the back strap. And your stance is off. You need to bend your knees a little and don't lock them. And you need to press the trigger, not pull it. Basic stuff."  
  
"Are you done yet?" Evelyn put the gun down on the table, hands going to rest on her hips as she looked up the three inches taller the guy was compared to her. And she stood at 5'9.  
  
"I'm being constructive. Just offering criticism." He smiled softly.  
  
"There's a difference between criticism and just straight up being an asshole. I'm at least good enough to hit the target."  
  
"Good is... good." He shrugged. "Try harder and maybe you'll be a fairly competent agent. And if you can't focus your mind to an 'agent' state, imagine something you hate in front of the target to get you motivated."  
  
"Great. I'll imagine you, then." Evelyn held back a growl, picking the weapon up again and aiming. But a second after she felt the wave of regret wash over her and sighed, arms dropping. "Sorry, that was a bit too mean." She apologised softly. Thomas didn't say anything, for once. The brunette looked down at the gun, aware of the remaining shots still in the barrel. "You wanna go again?"  
  
He took the gun off her. "Sure. And if you watch me, maybe you can get it right the next time you try." He shuffled her out of her position to take up his own stance. Evelyn considered taking back her apology. "Just... look. The further up my hand is on the back strap, the more leverage I gain which will help control recoil when I fire. And now I'm standing with feet and hips shoulder-width apart with bent knees. It helps with stability and mobility-" He pointed and gestured along with his words, "-and when it comes to firing,  only apply pressure to the front of the trigger and not the sides." He aimed and fired two more rounds at the target. Both again were a breath from perfect. "Done. Now you go."  
  
Evie took the gun back, remembering the one shot left in the magazine. She took in a breath, mimicking his stance and hold to the best of her memory and raised her arms. When she heard no further complaint or reprimand from the man beside her, she looked down the sightline and fired the remaining bullet.  
  
"See?" Thomas was grinning at himself as the two noticed the new hole just outside of the centre ring.  
  
"Okay. Points to you. That was fairly constructive." Evelyn conceded and ignored the grin still happily spread across the elder's lips.   
  
An announcement from the other side of the room to hand in the weapons and empty magazines along with target papers signalled for a break.  
  
"Lunch," Evelyn said as she gathered in her paper and handed the gun, magazines, and papers with her name into the group leader along with Thomas. "Are you sticking with me or are you fucking off for now?" She asked the blond as the two made their way to the door.  
  
Denver shrugged, "Might as well walk you to the canteen. Are you buying something to eat or did you bring a packed lunch?"  
  
"What are we, in high school?"  
  
"Just trying to use words you understand since you certainly could be. You're easily the youngest one here. How old are you?"  
  
"Nineteen. You?"  
  
Thomas's boots squeaked on the hall floor as he came to a sudden halt, " _Nineteen?_  Fuck me, Summers, I'm twenty-nine and will be thirty in a month. How in the hell of it are you  _here_ when you're nineteen? I would have thought the age limit for new recruits was at least twenty-five."  
  
Evelyn stopped walking. "Special circumstances. And I don't really know that much about it either," She answered truthfully. "Anyway, why should it matter? Everyone that works here has had to start somewhere, you can't tell me all of them came here with perfect scores in everything."  
  
Thomas stared at her for a long pause, many agents on the corridor passing them in either direction without giving the two a second thought, before shaking his head with a huff, "You're barely out of high school. You're crazy."  
  
Evelyn smiled, folding her arms. "I think that's the nicest thing you've said to me all morning. Now, are we getting lunch or not? I'm starving."


	38. Arrows 2.0

**Tuesday**  
"Archery, hm?"  
  
Evelyn weighed the bow in her hands. It was a compound as far as she could tell, the same bow Clint had trusted her with in the barn. The arrow in her other hand felt heavy and the fletchings on the end were flexible under her thumb. "Just trying it out. It was on offer so why not?" She shrugged, nocking the arrow and starting to pull back. The target before her was about the same distance as the barn, she guessed, though the breeze from the outside training yard air was not something in the original shooting conditions she experienced.  
  
Thomas moved to the side and took a few steps back as if he believed she could somehow shoot behind herself. She didn't pay him any mind, or the sparse agents wandering around the outdoor training area doing various weapons practises not suitable for the indoor range. "Do you know about the particularly famous SHIELD agent around here that also uses a bow and arrow?" He leant his right side on the wall, watching.  
  
"Well, if he's particularly famous, he isn't exactly good at his job, is he?" Evie huffed before stretching her arm so her grip reached to her chin. Hehe. Get rekt, Barton.  
  
"Anyway, his real name Clint Barton - codenamed Hawkeye. The guy's an old legend around here and known as the best marksman SHIELD has to offer and was handpicked by Director Nick Fury himself."  
  
 **Thwack.** Hit.  
  
"You know, for a newbie, you seem to know a lot about this place and its agents," Evie mused, playing idly with another arrow. "Are you a fanboy, Denver?" She teased gently.  
  
Thomas grunted, ignoring her and continuing, "And according to rumour, him and Black Widow, another famous SHIELD agent around here, are supposed to be giving us a training demonstration on Thursday. Basic self-defence demonstration delivered by practically veteran agents." Evie paused, mid arm-stretch. "Its a rumour but not an unbelievable one." He tacked on, smirking a little at her shock.  
  
Evie shook herself out, taking a breath and aiming at the target before letting the arrow go. Two arrows now stuck on the second to outer ring. "Surely they would tell us before doing something like that? Especially for something like the Entry Trials?" She turned to him, awkwardly attempting to wrestle the bow across her body like she'd seen Clint do.  
  
"Like I said, its just rumour. But for someplace like SHIELD, teaching new recruits using expert agents, particularly when this week is registered for physical training and a field operations run,wouldn't be such a terrible idea. I only wish the rumours said something about the paper exams in two weeks. No one knows what to expect outside of general SHIELD knowledge questions, but the categories are expected to be widespread." Thomas rambled before slowing at the smile forming on the younger recruit's face. "What are you grinning at?"  
  
"Paper exams I can do. I'm gonna kick their asses. Academically."  
  
"Yeah. Yeah." Denver didn't seem nearly as enthused as Summers, eyes drifting to look at the target again.  
   
"Not your area of expertise?" She asked at the sudden shift in tone from confident to demure.  
  
"Don't get it wrong, I'm not academically slow or all bravado and brawn or whatever you might think Summers, but I normally prefer practical over theory." He scratched the back of his neck, fingers tugging the short blond strands of hair.  
  
"I don't think you're all bravado and brawn... I just think you're  _mostly_ bravado and brawn." She chuckled and he gave a wry smile but didn't seem to be able to claw back all his confidence at once. "You'll do great." She patted his arm.  
  
"If you say so."  
  
"You could always ask me for help?" Evie shrugged.  
  
Thomas snorted, "Not a chance."  
  
"Alright." She brushed off the inferred idea that she was not worth his time. "But you can always ask if you change your mind. I'm not gonna think less of you." She finally nocked her last arrow and pulled back, letting go with a silent breath.  
  
 **Thud.**  
  
Thomas hummed with a soft nod, "Wow. That's actually pretty good."  
  
"Its the best I've ever done before," Evie noted, the arrow wobbling in the fifth ring as it came to a stop in the target. A swell of pride rested on her chest and in her stomach, prompting her to take out her phone and snap a picture, quickly texting it.  
  
 _'So, what's the verdict?'_  She sent to the number, her grin gradually growing, especially as the reply came in almost quick enough to raise an eyebrow.  
  
' _Well done. Told you it takes practice'_ came up under the display name  **'Old Man'** causing Evelyn to smile. Then another vibration signalled  _'Hang on, is that now?'._  
  
 _'Yep. Outside in the training courtyard',_  she replied.  
  
It took a few seconds before the next message popped up,  _'You're using a bow? On your own?'_  
  
 _'Compound and everything. Just like you showed me'._ Evelyn typed out, smiling.  
  
"Old Man, huh?" Thomas's voice made her jump and look to see him peeking over her phone. She'd forgotten he was there if she was honest. "Father?" He questioned further.  
  
"No." Evie shook her head rapidly. "Or if he is, someone has some damn serious explaining to do." She joked before adding, "Friend."  
  
"Ah." Thomas nodded, arms folding as his eyes trailed back to the target. "The same friend that taught you how to shoot a gun? Kind of."  
  
"Among other things," She answered, feeling the phone vibrate but not looking just yet. "Which brings me to a question I've been meaning to ask you since yesterday."  
  
"Oh yeah?"  
  
"How did you get into SHIELD? Like, who introduced you or how did you discover this place?" Evie asked, fingers fiddling with the coarse string of the bow. "You've clearly had previous training, more than shooting a gun with your dad. So, how did you get here?"  
  
Thomas opened his mouth, then seemed to think better of his words, as he stuttered and hesitated. "Well, from what I was told I was left on the doorstep of an orphanage at birth, abandoned by m family with this pendant with half a piece missing- ha, you should've seen your expression just now. No, but, if you don't mind, I don't really wanna talk about it right now. I mean, I've known you for a little over a single day, and as much as I would class you as more than an acquaintance, I'm not ready to bring up my whole tragic past and backstory in the middle of the outdoor courtyard."  
  
"That's fine. But... you see me as more than an acquaintance? Are you being serious right now, Denver?"  
  
"I thought of you as more than just another agent when you flipped me over on the training mat following my doing the same. You have spirit, I'll admit it. And you've yet to strike me in the face outside of a sparring session so... I would assume I'm in the same category for you?" He asked almost flinchingly with a thumbs up and scrunched face.  
  
Evelyn rolled her eyes and smiled, "Sure thing, Thomas The Tank Engine."  
  
Thomas cringed and rubbed his hands over his face. "Please, if there's one thing I can ask from you, it's that that does not become a thing."  
  
 _"They're two, they're four, they're six, and eight. Shunting trucks and hauling freight~_ " Evie started to quietly sing.  
  
"Please don't."  
  
 _"Red and green and brown and blue. They're the really useful crew~"_  
  
"Summers."  
  
 _"All with different roles to play round Tidmouth sheds or far away~"_  
  
"You're only embarrassing yourself, right now, sweetheart."  
  
 _"Down the hills and round the bends. Thomas and his friends~"_  She finished dramatically with jazz hands, or as good a jazz hands as she could manage still holding her phone.  
  
"I take it back. You're not even an acquaintance of mine. I do not know you." Denvers tossed his hands in the air, looking for the closest exit or path to get away from this crazy teenager.  
  
The sound of muffled whooping and applause made Evelyn frown. She looked around the courtyard but none of the other agents around seemed to be watching them or trying to start a conversation. So she looked down at her hands. And then she remembered. The phone. But last she checked, she hadn't been mid-call with the one and only  **'Old Man'**.  
  
"Oh, hey man. I uh... I didn't know you called." Evelyn answered, chuckling awkwardly as she lifted the phone to her ear, the change in mood causing Thomas to turn back around and assess the embarrassment for himself.  
  
 _"Don't mind me, I'm just sat at my very boring work desk stacked with papers as high as I'd enjoy being right now."_ Barton sighed on the other end, and Evelyn could hear the quiet _shhhk_  sounds of paper being shuffled around a desk in the background.  _"But please, do go on. Are you taking requests? I'd shoot someone from half a mile away in the ass to hear something Britney Spears right now."_ Evie could practically  _see_ the smirk on his face by the tone. Teasing bastard.  
  
Evelyn shut her eyes, sliding her thumb across the screen to end the call before taking a deep breath in and letting a long breath out, opening her eyes to Thomas's widespread grin. "Kill me," She begged.  
  
Tank Engine laughed with a look of pure kid-friendly evil.


	39. Teaching

**Tuesday evening**  
Clint really didn't like Evie's neighbourhood, at least at night. It just felt dangerous, and as much as that might sound exaggerative for someone like him, the place just gave off a really bad vibe when it was dark. So, he was pretty happy to pick up and drop Evelyn off every day from SHIELD and had started routinely walking her inside up to her door just in case. Not that she knew that was the reason why.  
  
"Clint?" Evie asked once they were outside her door and she was holding her keys.  
  
"Hm?"  
  
"Are you teaching out class on Thursday?" She asked with the smallest smile at the corner of her mouth.  
  
Clint's expression turned to surprise, then a grimace, irritated. "Who told you?"  
  
"Rumour." She replied quickly, trying not to make him angry and to also not drop Thomas in the thick of it.  
  
Clint sighed, teeth grinding, "Yeah. Nat and I are giving you guys a training session on Thursday, though it was supposed to be a surprise."  
  
"For a top-secret organisation, you guys don't seem to be very good at keeping things secret." The teen teased. She earned a heated glare and shrugged back. "Just saying."  
  
Barton shook his head, hands carding through his hair before dropping to his sides. "I can't show favouritism to you, so I have to ask you to try and pretend like you don't already know me or Natasha, so it doesn't seem unfair."  
  
"It wouldn't be that unfair anyway considering how clueless I am compared with everyone else," Evie said, smiling, "And younger. The only friend I've made so far is nearly thirty, and everyone else is at least in their twenties."  
  
"SHIELD does have a recommended age when it comes to application. But I'm positive you're not the only person under twenty. We have a few geniuses. You're not alone." Clint reassured her, ruffling her hair.  
  
"Please stop doing that. It's embarrassing."  
  
"Says the girl who sings intros to kids TV shows in public."  
  
"That was one time!"  
  
  
 **Thursday**  
Driving together to SHIELD, Clint explained what they would be doing in their class. Evie listened and nodded along, deciding not to bring up the fact Clint had said they weren't supposed to know each other and therefore telling her everything beforehand kind of contradicted his argument. Soon enough, they went in together and split off, seeing each other again an hour after lunch when the group entered the indoor training room.  
  
Thomas and Evelyn stood together, which had become the unconscious usual, as Barton and Romanoff introduced themselves to the group. Some recognised the pair, some had a lot to learn, and some wouldn't shut the hell up asking useless questions and Evie wouldn't be surprised if that guy ended up neck-snapped between Natasha's legs.  _What a way to go though,_  Evie thought absently before remembering the fact she was supposed to be listening and the glare she was receiving from Clint told her she'd been obviously daydreaming. Thank fuck he wasn't psychic.  
  
The class paired off to the mats, following the demos and practising the techniques that were shown. Evie found herself more often than not clicking her fingers in front of Thomas's face to get him to stop drooling over the SHIELD agents and focus on the lesson before she struck him in the wrong place and knocked him out for the rest of the lesson. " _Fanboy,"_  she would snort, and then quickly duck before he hit her upside the head.  
  
Soon enough, the physical lesson came to a close, but there was some time left at the end for a Question and Answer session and if someone didn't shut that idiot up in row two, there would be a definite need for the medical wing next door. Evelyn used to question why it was right next door to the training room, especially with such strict security measures in place, but now she realised there was barely any security measures to put on people's mouths. Besides duct tape. And needle and thread. And superglue. And Evie should really be concerned about her midday murder/torture thoughts. But sooner rather than later, thankfully, the questions stopped and Barton and Romanoff were politely said goodbye to and left the class to be happily dismissed.  
  
"So, how did it feel to be taught by your top SHIELD crushes?" Evie smiled as the class around her and Denver dispersed.  
  
"I'm not crushing on them. I'm just respectful of their work. And if you could stop making inappropriate jokes like that, because I am not a fanboy, sweetheart, that would be wonderful." He folded his arms as they began making their way outside to the training courtyard.  
  
"Uh-huh. You know, when you get angry, do you get engine steam coming out of your ears?" She made splaying motions on either side of her face and a fish pout with her lips.  
  
"You're about two seconds away from finding out, Summers."  
  
"Sorry! Sorry."  
  
  
 **Later that day...**  
"So, how did you enjoy your new teachers today? I heard that the guy of the two was pretty handsome." Clint was chuckling before they'd even stepped in the car, the lesson (and his smile) having been on his mind the whole day.  
  
"You were great, as expected." Evie rolled her eyes, tossing her bag into the back before sliding in passenger-side.  
  
Clint was nothing if not perceptive. "Something wrong?" He flicked his eyes between the road and the teen a few times before settling back on the road.  
  
"Just tired." She responded, leaning on an arm on the door.  
  
"Did you eat right?" Barton asked.  
  
"Yeah, probably too much actually. But the cafeteria food here is better than it was at high-school at least." She rubbed her stomach as she spoke, mulling over the mediocre tasting memories.  
  
"Yeah, it's not that bad. Who was the guy next to you today? And was he staring at me and Nat the whole time or had I dozed off by that part?" The archer chuckled softly.  
  
"His name's Thomas Denver. We got partnered up on the first day of training and just kinda put up with each other since. He's the almost-thirty-year-old I mentioned this morning."  
  
"Ah." Clint turned a corner, tilting the two to the left before driving straight again. "Is it just me or do you seem to find it easier making friends with people ten years your senior rather than your own age?"  
  
"At this point, I've learned not to question it. It's just the way my story goes," Evie shrugged softly before nudging his shoulder. "Plus, the friends I've made recently have been the best I've ever had. So don't you go complaining."  
  
"I'm not complaining. You know I enjoy teasing you."  
  
The teenager huffed gently and leaned back on the window.  
  
They drove in quiet for a short while before Clint broke the silence again. "How's this week feeling for you? Independent study starting next Monday."  
  
"How are we supposed to study for an exam we know nothing about?" Evie asked.  
  
"Its general knowledge, plus you're supposed to get worksheets and papers explaining the rules tomorrow before you're dismissed."  
  
Evie perked up from where she'd been dozing off. "Rules?"  
  
"The same thing you'd get read before your high-school exams, plus a few extra notices about discretion and SHIELD's termination policy surrounding public exposure." The archer explained as he drove.  
  
"Ah." Evelyn nodded, playing with her hoodie sleeves. "Do you remember what your exams were like when you first showed up? Or was SHIELD not around at the same time as Captain America?"  
  
"Screw you. And it was, actually. That's what started it all." Clint grumbled back at her, halting the car at a light. Barton raised an eyebrow at Evie's confused expression. "SHIELD was founded after World War II by Chester Phillips, the director of the SSR, Howard Stark, an inventor, and Margaret "Peggy" Carter, the former partner of the American war hero Captain America- weren't you told all this on your first day?"  
  
"Would you be very mad if I said I wasn't really listening that much on the first day?" Evie bit her lip, mumbling. Clint narrowed his eyes before starting the car again. "Sorry, but I was mainly focussing on not touching and breaking anything. There is so much expensive equipment around that if I broke even one thing I would have to become a genius billionaire to try and replace it."  
  
"Well, it is a professional organisation. And I've been guilty of that before." The agent admitted. Evie seemed greatly interested in the story the way her eyes suddenly resembled a puppy's. "I mostly just got chewed out by Coulson and made to do paperwork runs for a month," He said, "But exam advice? They've changed since my day- don't give me that look- so I can't give you any hints."  
  
"At least you'll be there to talk to when I have a mental breakdown halfway through the week," Summers replied cheerily before looking back out of the window at the darkening sky.  
  
"Uh, I need to talk to you about that," Clint said slowly, almost apprehensively. Evie's gaze shifted back to him with a furrowed brow. Clint took a breath before talking. "I've been given a mission by Fury. Something's come up and I'm being sent along with Coulson to Roswell, New Mexico from tomorrow until next Wednesday to check it out."  
  
"New Mexico?" Evie raised her voice a little and Clint snapped his eyes back to the road. The girl slumped in her seat, mouth open, and blinking a few times with no words. Then finally the word  _"No"_  was declared.  
  
"No?" Clint asked.  
  
"No. You can't go. Clint, you can't leave me alone here. The Entry Exams are in one week, I need you!" Evie protested, shaking her head in a panic.  
  
"I'm sorry but I'm moving out tomorrow morning. I can pick you up as usual but you'll have to get someone to drive you home, just ask reception and they'll let you hire a car-"  
  
"Clint!"  
  
" _I don't have a choice._ " He hissed back at her, frustration bubbling beneath his skin. Evie shifted back at his tone, eyes widening at his harsh voice, one she hadn't heard before. Clint took notice and tried his best to calm himself down. "Look, I'm sorry Evelyn, but things here aren't always going to be convenient for you. That's how it is in SHIELD a lot of the time. As I said, I don't have a choice. Now, you're just going to have to be a big girl and deal with it."  
  
It was silent the rest of the drive back to Evelyn's apartment, but the air was stiflingly hot regardless of the a/c and thick enough to be cut with a knife. Eventually, Clint pulled up to the curb outside the apartment pedestrian gate and put the car in park. "Want me to walk you inside?" He asked, keys already in his hand.  
  
"I'm a big girl, Clint. I can deal with it." Evelyn snapped, grabbed her bag from the backseat and clambered out of the car, slamming the door behind her.  
  
"Evelyn!" Clint called out, but the teenager was already halfway down the path to the front door. "Evelyn!" He lowered the window with the next call but she still didn't turn, shoving her key in the old door and disappearing into the apartments with an angered huff.  
  
Clint groaned, gripping the wheel and gritting his teeth as he tried to soothe his ire. It took a few deep breaths and a recollection of a breathing exercise from his SHIELD therapist before he'd calmed down enough to think straight. His head hit the steering wheel with a sigh.  
  
He couldn't hold her hand every step of the way. She had to know that. He'd warned her this would be tough, and that he might not always be there for her, and she couldn't just throw a tantrum because he was doing his job.  
  
He lifted his head, hands playing idly with his keys in his right hand.  
  
But the way she looked terrified, especially when he snapped at her, just kicked him in the gut more. He'd had a long day after teaching her class, Coulson explained the full run-down of the mission and Clint had to go with him. There were no arguments to be had.   
  
The agent stuck his keys in the ignition and left, driving back home to Lucky in hopes this would have blown over by morning.  
  
  
The next morning Clint pulled up outside Evelyn's house. He texted to say he was outside as per routine, but within ten minutes of no response, he texted again. Ten more minutes and they were both unresponded too. He figured Evelyn must have just been holding a grudge, or still being pissy about last night, so he tried her phone instead.  
  
... and it went straight to voicemail. So either her phone was dead or she'd blocked him. And now they were running late.  
  
Clint got out of the car, hoping she was just asleep and not still angry. He hadn't been able to get his mind off the argument all night and morning. So, getting a neighbour to buzz him in and heading up the stairs, Clint reached the top floor and knocked on her apartment door.  
  
"Evelyn, open up. We have to go." He waited for a moment of silence, then continued to knock, hastily. "If you've overslept, fine, but we're late. I need you up now." He called out again before a door opened. However, it wasn't the one in front of him.  
  
He turned around to the opposite apartment, watching as a little girl with fawn hair, maybe about seven years old holding a backpack slipped out with a giggle. Then she saw Clint and looked up, mouth open as she looked all the way up the height he had on her.  
  
"Um... hi?" He waved, awkwardly, trying to remember where he'd seen her face before.  
  
"Are you Clint?" She asked him quietly, tilting her head to the side but seeming a little mistrusting towards him.  
  
Clint blinked at her knowledge of his first name. "Um, I'm gonna go with 'yes'." He answered carefully with a polite smile.  
  
The girl practically lit up like a Christmas tree at the confirmation. "I'm Macy. Evie talks about you all the time. She said you're super cool and that you own a cute dog and that you have a tractor and that you shoot a bow and arrow. She also said you were really old but I don't think you look older than my dad." She raced out, a giddy smile spreading on her delicate face as she spoke.  
  
Then he remembered. Macy. Evelyn had mentioned she'd babysat her before and he'd seen her in a picture before.  _Evelyn talked about him? Not the time to think about it._ "Erm... thank you. Do you know if she's in?"  
  
"No. She's usually at work now." Macy replied, fingers lacing together and rocking on her feet.  
  
Clint nodded, deciding he was already late enough. "It was lovely to meet you, Macy. If you see Evie, can you tell her I'm looking for her?"  
  
"Okay!" The girl replied cheerily with a bright smile before Clint sped down the stairs back to his car and drove to work, hoping he wouldn't get his ass kicked, particularly with a mission on the timetable.  
  
  
Rushing through the doors, suiting up and heading through to the departures garage, Clint unloaded his bow with stiff movements and must have had a sour face to match as one of the mission agents he was guiding walked up to him and asked "Agent Barton?" with the caution you would approach a snake in the Amazon with. "Are you alright, sir?" He asked further, looking fearful of the answer.  
  
Clint just grunted, sending the agent speedily along his way before heading to the jeep. A hand on his shoulder halted him and spun him around to see his handler's face looking at him with scrutinising eyes.  
  
"Barton?" Coulson asked, looking the man up and down for an answer he wouldn't give him verbally.  
  
"I'm fine. Let's go." Clint insisted, letting the hand slip off his shoulder and heading to the vehicle, hopping into the back and waiting for his boss to get into the driver's seat. He pulled out his phone and sent a final text to Evelyn telling her he was leaving, putting it away as Coulson slipped into the front seat and started the jeep up.  
  
He couldn't think about her now, he had to keep his mind on the mission, and hope Evelyn wasn't stubborn enough to just cut off all connection with SHIELD now and forever over a little fight between the two of them.


	40. Breathe

**Evelyn's apartment - Thursday night**  
Evelyn entered her apartment with a huff, tossing her bag onto the sofa and letting out a frustrated growl now she was in the sanctity of her own home. They'd never had a fight before, they'd had small arguments but never an actual fight. And she believed in every word she said.  
  
Evelyn grabbed the kettle and filled it with water, flicking it on before picking up her bag to take into the bedroom, still fuming.  
  
It was much colder in there than the rest of the apartment, startling her, before realising the window was open. She felt another rush of irritation hut her. She must have forgotten to close it before leaving when she'd been in a particular hurry that morning, excited for Clint teaching. That seemed far from her mind now, however, her brain only able to grab onto the negatives flooding her mind.  
  
It wasn't fair. She would be left on her own. He would be gone for nearly a week and she wouldn't be able to talk to him or contact him, at least she assumed so since it was a mission. Why would he take a job when she needed him? Why did everyone have to leave when she needed them the most? It wasn't fair. It wasn't.  
  
She wrestled with her bedspread, lying down on her side and grumbling to herself.  
  
But he worked there and had done for much longer than she had. He had been there for years and missions taking him away from the building were just natural. He was an agent and an assassin. She should have expected that. She shouldn't be so selfish. The world needs him, and Natasha, and all the other agents that SHIELD has to protect people. Was she really so stubborn as to not want Clint to go and possibly save people just because she wanted to talk to him? Just because she felt awkward asking everyone else for help? When she still had Natasha (possibly), and Thomas, probably even Fury, and all the other agents around to ask for help if she needed it, and she threw a hissy fit over Clint leaving for a few days?  
  
Fuck. He was right. And she'd been too stubborn because she was scared. She really did have to grow up.  
  
Evie whipped out her phone, typing out her most sincere apology and a promise to try and make it up to him, deleting it and then typing it out once more to make it sound less whiny and less like she was making herself the victim.  
  
Her thumb hovered over the send button. He probably would dismiss the apology, or he wouldn't even bother with reading it. Maybe he'd think she was saying sorry just because she wanted to argue more and getting his response meant he would reply and debate.  
  
A shiver ran through her as another cool breeze flowed through the room and fluttered the curtains. She left her phone on the bedsheets, standing up and walking to the window. She reached out and shut the window firmly, reaching into her cupboard and pulling on a thicker hoodie before heading back to pour herself her cocoa, forgetting the phone.  
  
Evelyn had to give a little smile when she remembered the mini marshmallows in the cupboard and the whipped cream she'd bought from the store earlier that week. It had been a small impulse buy, but now she was thankful. A nice mug of hot chocolate would do her some good and settle her nerves. Even if the sugar was a bad idea at this time of night, especially when she had physical training again tomorrow and a cramp between her shoulders already forming.  
  
The click of the bedroom door being blown shut from the open window's breeze interrupted her peaceful thoughts.  
  
She sighed, looking down into her mug and thinking back to the message waiting on her phone. She really should send that text. Even if Clint ignored it, at least she tried to settle the problem, and that was all she could do for herself before seeing him tomorrow. Would he still pick her up? He had said so, but that was before she acted like a brat. He had to, she couldn't give a regular taxi driver the location. Or he might send a different car to pick her up. That would be even more depressing than knowing he would be gone by the evening and she would be driving home with someone else.  
  
The girl sighed, putting her mug of hot chocolate back on the counter and went to go close the bedroom window, again.  
  
  
 **Roswell, New Mexico - Saturday Night**  
The crater created by Mjolnir was impressive, and in all the years of working at SHIELD, Clint had personally never seen anything like it. The vehicles, trailers, barricades surrounding the crater with armed guardsmen and a razor-wire fence running fifty yards from the crater's edge, enclosing the complex, he had seen many a time before now, however. Clear, plastic access tubes with junction boxes lead to a translucent cube structure erected in the middle of the crater.  
  
Standing in the base's command trailer, Coulson directed technicians at their desks as they analysed the strange mythical object and a team of SHIELD scientists working with high-tech machinery. Outside, thunder rumbled, and Barton looked up to the sky from his phone screen, feeling the first drops fall on his face before looking back at his hands.  
  
He'd received no messages from Evelyn, but a warning from SHIELD that she hadn't turned up to her classes that day. Clint had texted when he'd gotten a moment alone, only managing to get his hands on his phone again on Saturday, but his texts were ignored again and his calls went to voicemail. He really hoped she had avoided going just because of spite or because he didn't pick her up. She had SHIELD contact numbers in her phone for emergencies, so she could have...  
  
 _"I want eyes up high. With a gun. Now!"_ Coulson barked over his commlink, making his juggle his phone and only just save it from dropping into the mud beneath his boots. Barton looked up to see agents rushing around and yelling, instantly recognising his order and picking up a rifle, slinging it over his shoulder and heading out.  
  
Lightning crackled around the camp as Barton approached the crane. Leaping into the crane bucket, he hit a switch sending him soaring into the air to his preferred vantage point. Clint pulled his sniper rifle into his hands, checking the scope and scanning the area, soon seeing the danger that had agents flooding the plastic tubing.

The figure was heading down a ladder from a junction box, with other agents converging on him.   
  
 _"Barton. Talk to me,"_ Coulson commanded.  
  
Barton narrowed his eyes through the night vision scope, trigger finger calmly in place. "One shot, one kill, sir. Just give the word." His eyes locked on Thor, emerging from the junction box and heading towards the cube structure. "Hello, handsome." He mumbled with a slight smirk, watching the blond man race through the tunnels and practically plough through the walls of agents attacking him, throwing and kicking them away like flies. He raced towards Mjolnir before a fist sends him reeling and falling onto the floor before looking up to see one of the biggest guys Barton had ever seen, and chuckled to himself imagining Evelyn quipping something such as _'what did that guy eat for breakfast this morning? The jeep?'_  
  
Clint watched as Thor and the agent wrestled each other and rolled down the side of the crater into the mud, sliding around. Barton kept himself still as he watched through the sight, as the blond man finally managed to lunge and toss the guy across the field and into a post.  
  
The approached Mjolnir, soaking, bleeding and caked with mud. The thunder above the camp rolled and crashed, the lightning striking down. As Thor approached his hammer, Mjolnir started to glow brighter, blue electricity sparking off its surface. Clint held his gaze, his sight on the back of Thor's head and trigger finger steady.  
  
 _"Hold your fire,"_ Coulson said. Barton instantly released the trigger and pulled away.  
  
Thor wrapped his hand around the hammer, smiling, but as went to pull it from the ground, the hammer never moved. The man looked confused and tried again, nothing. The runes on the sides of the object glowed bright, and the rain surrounding the camp poured and poured. He'd failed.  
  
 _"Ground units move in. The show's over."_  All SHIELD agents were given the order to move in, guns trained on Thor, surrounding him.  
  
Clint lowered himself from the crane to the floor, hopping out and heading inside the building. He pulled out his phone. No messages. No replies. No sign of anything from her. A checkup text from Nat, however, which he responded briefly before turning in for a mission debrief from Coulson. It was going to be a long weekend.  
  
He needed to calm down. He took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. Just breathe. Just breathe.  
  
  
 **Location Unknown**  
Her brain had a heartbeat. Settling right to the back of her skull was a heavy thumping pulse, slowly spreading throughout her head. It was small at first, only a whisper of a pain, but it grew in severity the more she began to return to the land of the conscious. It throbbed, it didn't sting. It felt similar to a hangover, but she couldn't recall drinking, in fact, she could barely recall anything at all as to why she would have a headache. And her mouth tasted funny - like she hadn't brushed for a few days.  
  
She felt fuzzy. Fuzzy and numb throughout her entire body. Her legs were bent at the knee. Her clothes felt damp and clingy, itching between the shoulders like when she would sweat. She reached to readjust them and found the barrier that her hands were not able to move further than an inch apart... and they weren't in front of her.

Her head was resting on air, not reaching her neck and she could feel her ass on an unforgiving surface. Her wrists tugged away from each other, feeling icy metal constricting him. As more things came into focus, she noticed the yellow glow on her eyelids which suggested to her that it was daytime wherever she was, or the lights were on.  
  
"She's awake." A voice as loud as a creaky floor at midnight run in her ears. Male. And it hurt, making her wince and pry her eyes open to focus on a blurring figure crouching down in front of her. Her cheek was tapped by a gloved hand as she shook her head, flinching, trying to clear her vision. Eventually, she could see the man clearly and definitely didn't recognise him. "Hello there, Princess. How are you doing, huh?" He grinned at her, dressed completely in black with a red symbol sitting above his heart.  
  
"Where am I?" Her tongue felt like lead as she talked, voice cracking from lack of use.  
  
"I'm surprised you can speak, we may have perhaps overdosed you. Apologies. Thought you might not even make it through. But as luck would have it, we have you now." The man clapped, standing up. Evelyn craned her neck to look up at him, squinting at the bright light shining in her eyes. "As to where you are, I'm sure a regular SHIELD agent such as you should recognise this logo, correct?" He tapped his chest, the red symbol practically glowing in the light.  
  
Evie did know that symbol. It itched in the back of her mind. It took her a moment before she mumbled one word.  
  
"HYDRA."  
  
"Lovely." The man smiled before clasping his hands behind his back. "Now, we have a few questions for you, dear."  
  
Shit.  
  
She couldn't breathe.


	41. Cut off one head

**Roswell, New Mexico - The next morning - Sunday**  
Barton stood, arms crossed, watching his boss and the mystery infiltrator through the one-way glass of the SHIELD holding cell. They'd taken the blond in for questioning, moved him away from Mjolnir as they ran background checks on his facial scan. So far, nothing had come up, but by now the scientists had indeed recognised the hammer to be a paranormal object of interest.  
  
Thor sat in a chair in the centre of the room, staring forward blankly with his hands cuffed behind him as Coulson stood across from him.  
  
"It's not easy to do what you did. You made us all look like a bunch of mall cops. That's hurtful." The agent began. The man sat before him stayed silent, almost in a trance. "The men you so easily subdued are highly-trained professionals, and in my experience, it takes someone who's received similar training to do what you did to them. Would you like to tell me where you received your training?"   
  
The God sat quietly, staring past Coulson.  
  
"Pakistan? Chechnya? Afghanistan? Then again, you strike me more as the soldier of fortune type. What was it, South Africa?"   
  
Still no answer.  
  
Coulson leaned in close, having a hunch.  "Certain groups pay well for a good mercenary. Especially HYDRA." The agent waited for a response, some form of reaction to the enemy organisation, but not even a twitch. "Who are you?"  
  
"Just a man." The first thing the blond had said since being taken in, not having given up much of a fight after learning he was no longer worthy.  
  
"One way or another, we find out what we want to know. We're good at that." Coulson turned and exited the room, leaving the God to himself as he closed the door shut with a locking click. Going the signal to another agent to watch the door, Coulson joined Barton by the window looking in.  
  
"Want me to talk to him, sir?" Clint asked, uncrossing his arms as Phil stood next to him.  
  
"Its alright, Barton." Coulson shook his head, watching the man sitting silently in the room. It was quiet for a few moments, a comfortable quiet. But regardless of how much Clint thought he looked relaxed, Coulson knew him well enough to know the signs. "You know, if you feel you're too distracted here, I'm sure I can send you home on leave."  
  
"What?" Barton glanced over, half distracted, then cleared his throat as the statement registered. "No, I'm fine. I swear, sir." Clint told him, "I can focus."  
  
"On the mission? I don't doubt that. You've always been good at separating emotions and your mind under stress. But it's eating at you when you stop thinking."  
  
Clint peeled his eyes away from the window to look at Coulson. Phil could read him better than anybody. Other than Natasha, he was one of the only people Clint would trust with more than his life, and he did. He had to, Phil had been the main figure in his SHIELD life when he first joined up, and he owed his career on this side of the tracks to the man. If he'd stayed with the circus and Barney...  
  
"Just need to keep busy then," Clint responded, shortly. "I can handle it."  
  
  
 **Location Unknown**  
Evelyn tried to convince herself she'd been in worse situations before now, even though that was a complete lie. She couldn't have possibly been in worse situations than this - strapped to a chair in a freezing cold room, a man she'd never met before shining a light in her eyes who belonged to a war-mongering organisation around since the time of the Nazis.  
  
It had crossed her mind that this could be a part of her training - an exercise in... interrogation and torture? But when she started getting bruises on her cheeks and ribs in the shape of a fist and was almost certain at least one bone in her body was now fractured, she decided that yeah, this was not a drill. But only after an hour of such treatment had passed did she finally decide that, yeah, maybe this wasn't just SHIELD training.  
  
When she caught a moment's break to breathe, she spat out the blood in her mouth to the floor. "I don't know anything," Evelyn repeated again, losing count of how many times she'd said such a thing.  
  
"Oh, on the contrary, you know a lot of things, Miss Summers." The Man chuckled. Evie winced at the use of her last name, if they knew her name, she wondered what else they knew about her, and what more they could find out. "Including information, quite intimate information actually, about the SHIELD Agent Clint Barton."  
  
She wouldn't give them an inch. "Who's that?"  
  
He took a step closer with a royal scowl. "Don't play coy. You were seen and photographed with him on numerous occasions outside the Ashforn City Apartments that you make your home in, and then getting into a car and driving to a secure SHIELD facility."  
  
"Never heard of it," She said.  
  
"SHIELD's most skilled marksman." He reiterated. Evie cocked her head to the side, gritting her teeth as the position pulled on her bruised skin. "Blue eyes, commanding presence, always has a serious look on his face." He added a description. She raised an eyebrow. "The man with the bow and arrows."  
  
"Wait, I know now. Isn't that the guy from Lord Of The Rings? Legless? No, Lego-Man. Legolas! That's it! Legolas." She feigned ignorance, even at her most scared her humour clearly remained.  
  
She let out a small gasp as her head was gripped and head wrenched back. "You can play dumb all you want, Miss Summers. But we know that you have information, and we want it. You're going to give it to us one way or another." The man spoke close to her face, to close she could smell what he'd had for breakfast. But Evelyn was more focused on not being brutally murdered. "So I will ask again... what information can you give us regarding Clinton Francis Barton and his connection to SHIELD?"  
  
The teenager let out a laugh. "Francis? What kind of name is 'Francis'? As a middle name? And 'Clinton' as a first? Who the hell does that to their kid?" Evie snorted, covering the sound of nerves in her voice with the sound of laughter instead.  
  
The man beside her sighed, running a thumb over one of the bruises on her cheek. "I tried to ask as nicely as I could." He let his grip on her hair go lax turned to stand aside, letting the light illuminate a table beside him. There was a single item on it, a long thin strip of plain black material, which as he picked it up, she realised was a blindfold. "Perhaps it's better that you don't see most of what's coming now. Wouldn't want to scar such a young mind, after all." He reached forward, and suddenly, Evelyn's sight was drowned in darkness.  
  
Her panic started to really set in then. Her heartbeat raised, her breathing quickened, her ears strained in alarm and her mind was racing to catch up. Seeing things coming was one thing, but now she had no idea what she would be subjected too. She heard him shuffling around the room and her fists clenched behind her as she swallowed, praying to whatever deity she could that she would be okay.   
  
"This might hurt a little. So remember to yell out whenever you're ready to talk." His voice seemed to echo around the room now, bouncing off the walls and confusing her of his location.  
  
She grit her teeth. "Fuck you." She spat into the darkness.  
  
A sigh. "Why do I always get the stubborn ones?"  
  
  
 **Time skip - Tuesday**  
Barton hopped out of the jeep as soon as they hit the garage. It had been a long weekend, and he had witnessed some pretty messed up stuff that he still couldn't explain. Like something straight out of a storybook, little tale that used to swirl around the orphanages as bedtime stories. But it didn't matter, all he wanted now was to get something to eat and sleep in his own bed with Lucky cuddled up beside him.  
  
Slinging his bow over himself, he headed through to the main building and straight for the cafeteria to grab a pasta bowl. Just something to tide him over till he got home. And he was soon speeding towards the building exit ready to hand in his notice for the end of his mission at reception.  
  
 _"Agent Barton."_  The Director's voice made him twist back around to see him standing outside the meeting room, and beckoning him over with a short gesture. Sighing to himself, he begrudgingly headed back in the opposite direction to the exit and followed him inside the room to see Natasha sat waiting at the meeting table. Only when he closed the door did the Director continue, "Are you aware of Miss Evelyn's current whereabouts? We've been trying to get ahold of her since last Friday and have yet to obtain confirmation that she received her worksheets and papers that she was supposed to be given on Friday. We emailed them out but are yet to get a reply telling us she has them." Fury explained and Clint stopped chewing his pasta.  
  
"She won't return my texts or calls." He answered, swallowing.  
  
"I can try." Natasha voiced from the table. Putting his bowl down and sharing the number, the Russian attempted to call the teenager, letting it ring until it hit the answering machine instantly. Then she tried again but the same result. "Voicemail. And she didn't have my number to begin so blocking or ignoring me is out of the question."  
  
"Well, it's not required by trainees to be here for Independent Study week." Barton reasoned with a shrug, trying to sound indifferent and let the kid have her space regardless of how fishy this was starting to become.  
  
"Who would know where she might be?" Fury asked, arms folding.  
  
Clint thought it through for a moment.  
  
  
Thomas was sure water fountains had something against him. Ever since he was little they always seemed to enjoy giving him a heart attack and drenching his shirt when he tried to get a drink. Here was no different as he hissed at the cold and started dabbing at his work shirt with a napkin.   
  
"Excuse me?" A voice from his side made the man jump. And then jump again once he recognised their face.  
  
"Agent Barton! Sir!" Denver went to salite him and hit himself in the face with the wet napkin. Quickly tossing it aside, he rushed to speak. "Its an honour, sir-"  
  
"Thomas Denver, correct?" Clint cut him off. The trainee nodded eagerly, and curiously. "I've heard about you from a friend."  
  
"Oh? From whom?" He furrowed his brow, wondering who would have talked about  _him_ to  _Clint Barton_.  
  
"Do you know where Evelyn is?" The archer asked.  
  
Thomas blinked.  _No. Evelyn didn't... know Clint, right? She couldn't know him as a friend. He'd specifically used the word 'friend'._ "Evelyn Summers? Why are you interested?" He managed to get his mind back on track.  
  
"Denver, this is not the time for 20 Questions." Clint folded his arms, calmly, staring him down and making him feel a lot less like he was the same height as the man, and more as if he were about the same height as Evelyn, two inches shorter.  
  
"What makes you think I know where she is?" Thomas asked.  
  
"Because she talked about you two being paired up for the week and you seemed to have a connection so I will ask you only once more, do you know where she is?"  
  
They definitely knew each other. Why didn't Evie ever mention she knew him? Even after all the teasing? Not fair. "She talked about..? Uh, no. No, sir. I haven't seen her since Thursday afternoon. And she skipped out on me today - we'd agreed to go for lunch today but she's yet to show her face again." He grumbled the last part, looking ruefully at the water fountain in the same manner he would the teenager if she was beside him.  
  
Clint sighed, but muttered a " _thanks"_ and turned to head back to Fury.  
  
"Hey. What's wrong with Evelyn? What's happened?" Thomas asked, walking after him before Barton stopped.  
  
"Nothing yet. But do me a favour and stick around here. I may need to come back and ask you more questions."  
  
Denver nodded, respectfully. "If it helps. But, if you find out she is in danger, tell me. I want to help. She's my friend too," He told him honestly.  
  
Clint said nothing and headed back to the office.  
  
  
"She's not been here since Thursday and missed a lunch appointment with her training partner today." The archer grunted as he walked in, seeing Coulson had decided to join the party now. "But still it doesn't answer the question where she is."  
  
"Clint, keep calm," Phil advised, sensing Clint getting that familiar itch under his skin when things started to go wrong on a mission as he began pacing the floor.  
  
Nat spoke up softly, "We could go check out her apartment. Or her grandparents. Maybe she's just not opened her laptop yet or lost her phone." The redhead attempted to be the voice of reason and cut through Clint's steadily building panic. The two agents looked to their bosses.  
  
Fury nodded, "Go. If she's not at home and you aren't able to find her by sunset, we will start treating this as a Missing Person's case."  
  
  
Natasha let Clint drive them to Evelyn's apartment, never having been there or set foot inside before. The two quickly pulled up to the curb and had a neighbour buzz them inside, climbing three sets of stairs to the top floor and knocking swiftly on the door.  
  
"Evelyn!" Clint called out after a few seconds of pounding his fist on the wood. He was met with silence and looked to Natasha for guidance.  
  
Romanoff knocked delicately on the door and used a much softer tone, deceptively innocent and sweet. "Evie? Open up, please." She tried, loud enough to be heard but soft enough to persuade a person of a lack of threat. Still nothing. She let her hand slip to the door handle, ready to pull out her lockpicks when her hand easily pushed the handle down to realise the door wasn't locked in the first place.  
  
The two agents shared a look and a nod. "On your guard."  
  
The pair quietly entered the apartment, guard up, checking all the rooms one by one, calling out a   _"Clear."_ from the living room, then a "Clear." from the bathroom. Then finally, Natasha replied with an almost uncertain _"Clear..."_ from Evelyn's bedroom, causing Clint to follow her inside the freezing cold room. The window was blowing hard on the curtains and chilling the air.  
  
The two examined the room, sensing the signs of something strange. Natasha noticed the frown on Clint's face as he scanned the room. "What's wrong?"   
  
"The bed's moved. And the lamp's been broken." He nodded to the two objects, seeing the shattered lamp beside the bed and the imprints of the weight of the legs in the carpet. "Look." Clint gestured to the floor beside the cupboard, stretching out to grab the item and lift it into view. Natasha recognised it as a very much crushed phone, the same phone she knew was owned by Evelyn. Well, now they knew why she wasn't answering calls.  
  
Romanoff crouched down alongside the bed, eyes scanning the floor close to the broken lamp when she spotted something glistening on the carpet. Reaching forward and grabbing the cool metal in her hand, she mentally winced, and slowly stood up to face her partner. "Clint." The archer looked at her from where he'd been scanning the cupboard insides. "I'm gonna have to ask you to try your best to not freak out."  
  
"What?"  
  
She held out the silver broach, just slightly smaller than her palm. A metal depiction of an animal with one head and six legs.  
  
Credit to him Clint didn't freak out loudly, but his hand did start to bleed from the phone screen shattering completely in his hand.


	42. Watch me

Authors note: Mild blood warning but nothing too graphic  
  
 **HYDRA Base**  
The pain and the hurt were eating her from the outside inward. She had to get out. She couldn't wait any longer. She couldn't stand it. She was not going to sit here and just wait for her death to come, either at the hands of a bullet or at the loss of her senses. They had tried all sorts, an array of weapons and equipment lining the table beside her, only able to see it once her interrogator decided he wasn't getting the reactions he wanted when she resolved to give him no satisfaction.  
  
Electric, knives, ropes, and something injected into her system that made her extremely woozy for a short time, but nothing they had tried had broken her. She wouldn't break. And she knew even if she gave them what they wanted, that just made her expendable, and so hello darkness my old friend.  
  
So, that led to her next effort, reaching out a leg to try and knock into the torture table. There were a few items close to the edge, and with just a nudge in the right direction, it would be enough to make them fall.  
  
 _Come on, Evie. You can do this. Just take a deep breath- actually, don't do that because it hurts- and concentrate._  
  
She kicked her leg. Miss. She scooted the chair an inch across and kicked again. It knocked, but the items only wobbled. Taking a deep breath and kicking hard regardless of the pain when it pulled at the open wounds on her legs, the little clinks of metal against floor made Evie grin tiredly. Dragging them over with her boot, she picked the smaller of the two, a little blade almost like a file, and kicked it up to her thighs, picking it up with her mouth and dropping it over her shoulder to catch in her hands.  
  
The door opened in front of her. She stood her right shoe over the second item, clutching the smaller blade in her hand and wincing as she felt the edge nick her skin.  
  
"Brought you dinner. You're not vegetarian, are you?" Her interrogator smiled kindly. Evie nearly retched at the sickly sweetness in his expression. He frowned and moved to set the tray down on the table beside her. From here, she could see his uniform close up, a radio, a knife, and a badge hanging off his belt and a handkerchief in his top pocket. As he began cutting up what she could see some sort of steak meal, her fingers moved deftly to try and pick the lock with the small lock, feeling her palm already damp from her grip on the blade edge.  
  
"Boss wants an answer from you by the end of the day or..." The man paused, a piece of steak on the fork he was holding. "Well, perhaps I should have asked you what you would've prefered to eat today." He huffed a small chuckle, holding the food to her lips. Her green eyes flicked between the meat and the man, mouth stubbornly staying closed. "Come on. Should keep your strength up if you want to be of use." He tried to tempt her. She gave in and took the meat from the fork, chewing as he smiled, taking the handkerchief from his top pocket and wiping her mouth politely. Still with his smile, he turned his attention back to cutting up another piece for her.  
  
 **Clunk.**  
  
Evelyn inwardly cursed herself as she heard metal hit the floor. Even more when her interrogator stopped his ministrations on the food and slowly turned around to stare at her.  
  
Moments of silence stretched with a suffocating air of fear, Evelyn waiting with bated breath and a silent prayer, before the man narrowed his darkened eyes at her.  
  
"Those were your restraints." He identified the sound.  
  
"No, they weren't."  
  
When he approached her, she finally swung. But, her knees wobbled and her stance faltered, her arm being caught easily by the man towering over her before a blow to the side of the head sent her tumbling lifelessly to the ground at his feet, the small blade slipping out of her palm. She didn't move when he confiscated it and put it on the tray.  
  
He scoffed above her, looking down at the unconscious bloody wreck of a body, "Five days in that chair with substantial injuries and lack of substance? You wouldn't have even made it out of the door."  
  
The man let out a sharp scream when the blade of the second weapon jabbed into the back of his knee. Evelyn tackled him to the ground, his radio skittering across the room, and grabbed the handcuffs beside her to slap over his own wrists and thrust his head harshly to the stone floor when he attempted to kick her away. Blood coloured her hands and she felt nausea wash over her but pushed through to pin him down as he wriggled and threatened her with loud words. She held onto him with what little energy she could feel quickly draining from her, landing a final blow not nearly as strong as she knew she could normally manage to the back of his skull sending him into a dizzy haze.  
  
As soon as he stopped yelling and struggling, her full weight collapsed against his back, panting and spluttering as the adrenaline bled out of her system as quickly as her own injuries. But she couldn't stay there. She needed to get out, or at least do something. Rather that than run the risk of being caught and put down quicker than she could blink.  
  
Her head perked up, spying the radio across the room, dragging herself towards it and scanning it over. It was technology she didn't understand, too advanced and she didn't have time to decipher it. Even if no agents heard the scuffle, someone would be around to check in at some point. She ripped the batteries out and tossed the two parts away to opposite ends of the room. With that taken care of, she gripped the wall with wet hands, pushing herself to stand and sagging against it.  
  
"You'll fail." The HYDRA agent spoke up and rolled onto his side, glaring up at her as his head stopped spinning. She wiped the hair out of her face, grabbing the discarded blindfold from the table and hastily wrapping up a particularly nasty cut on her right thigh. "You won't get past the front door." She tied it tightly in a fumbling rush, screwing her eyes shut with a hiss and groan. "HYDRA knows who you are, Evelyn Summers. There is no erasing that. Cut off one head, two more shall take its place. Even if you do escape here, we will follow you wherever you go, you will always be looking over your shoulder for the day we find another use for you, or if history dictates your removal for interfering with our plans. That's why HYDRA will win. Because while SHIELD is considering right and wrong, HYDRA's already taken the shot."  
  
"Are you still talking?" Evelyn shook her head at the man, relying heavily on the wall at her back for balance.  
  
The agent spat up at her, "You can't win this."  
  
The words made Evelyn take pause, cutting through the adrenaline and agony clouding her mind. "Oh, I can't win this? You know, this morning I probably would have agreed with you. But now that you, just like a whole other bunch of people before you in my life, has told me that I can't? Overgrown bullies like you and your organisation trying to beat me into submission?" She stumbled away from the wall, everything in her body on fire, heartbeat pulsing under her skin, and to the man lying on the floor. Taking care to ease herself down to his level and grab the back of his head by his hair, she wrenched his head up to meet her eyes. "Fucking  _watch me_ ," She growled into his face, and shoved the handkerchief from his pocket into his mouth before he could say anything else.  
  
Blissfull silence. But she didn't have time to savour it, landing on her ass as her body felt another tremor wreck it.  
  
Evelyn couldn't fight her way out of this place, not in this state. She could barely stand up without the aid of the wall. She already had blood on her hands, drying and itching at her skin like a guilty twitch. She didn't want to kill anyone.  
  
Her eyes drifted across the room to the table. The array of tools and weapons littered the top gave her a moment to reflect on the situation, and then an idea.  
  
But maybe she wouldn't have to  _fight_ to get out.  
  
So, she pulled herself up from the floor and got to work doing what she did best. Fixing the problem. And if the problem was her at a disadvantage, well, she'd just have to level the playing field, wouldn't she?  
  
  
 **SHIELD Base**  
"Got it." The techie in his headset moved away from the screen scattered with maps. "CCTV shows Miss Summers and a team of agents leaving the apartment building Thursday evening 7:48pm and getting into a van heading for the main roads. We lost her somewhere into the mainlands but a speed camera caught the licence plate driving on the outskirts roads three hours later towards a building city records have registered as abandoned." He showed the footage and images to the group in the meeting room, gathered around to try and form a cohesive rescue plan.  
  
Clint and Natasha had returned to SHIELD in a rush, informing them of everything they knew before being directed to the techies in headsets to track her down. This was now a priority mission.  
  
"Extraction Team has been informed of the location. Departing in five minutes." Coulson spoke into his phone and ended his call. "Should we take the jets, sir?" He asked Fury overlooking the hologram map popping up onscreen before him,  
  
"No jets - too much attention. We're taking the jeeps. If HYDRA thinks we're coming they won't hesitate to kill Evelyn. That is the mission here." The Director responded, tying in orders to the garage before twisting to Barton nearly vibrating out of his seat with restless nerves and subdued anger. "Standby on your orders. This mission is yours to call."  
  
Barton bounced his leg, his bow out and ready resting on his knee as his fingers ran along the taut bowstring. He hadn't been able to stop moving since getting back, and now he had to keep breathing or else risk throttling anyone who dared say the wrong thing to him. "Five minutes. Extraction Team. Agent retrieval is the mission by any means necessary." He stood up, nodding to Fury who nodded back. Then he glanced to Natasha waiting beside him.  
  
Natasha recognised his silent request and stood with him. "I'll drive."  
  
  
 **HYDRA Base**  
The door to the interrogation room opened with a creak. The two guards standing outside the soundproof door looked at one another when they heard silence.  Footsteps walked into the room with one voice questioning  _"sir?"_  before a makeshift tripwire caused the first guard to stumble and hit his head on the strategically placed table and Eveyln jumped to put the second in a chokehold.   
  
"Go down, go down, go down." She chanted in a whisper, increasing her grip as the agent tried to pry her off, lowering the two to the floor before the man clad in black kevlar finally went lax in her arms. "Thank you." She muttered before veritably ripping his vest off of him and strapping it to herself, looting both bodies to find a taser and a gun. Still iffy on the idea of actually shooting, she put the gun in the back of her jeans and held the taser instead, stepping over the two bodies and out into the corridor, taking a guess and going right.  
  
The hallway wasn't flooded with guards, but she could hear voices around the next corner, readying herself by covering her ears before three guards turned the corner and into her view.  
  
Turning the radio up to screeching feedback levels and holding it out, the agents covered their ears to block out the hurtful waves. Evelyn dropped the device, shocking the first one with the taser, then looping the rope around the second's neck. She jumped, donkey kicking the third in the stomach using the second as a counterweight, effectively choking him. Tasing the first again when he grabbed onto her leg, she was pulled towards the wall and slammed into it by the third. Releasing the rope and shocker, she elbowed his jaw, stamping his foot and letting her knee connect with his stomach before sending him barreling into the newly released second, both falling to the ground in a heap before she seized the radio and whirled around, speeding down another corridor.  
  
She passed herself in the glass of an empty office window, catching a glimpse of her reflection. She felt ready to vomit. Or cry. But she just wrenched her eyes away from the sight and continued forward before coming up on a door. It was big, thick and heavy. It looked like it led outside. Or it could just be another room to the building, but the glowing green light above it suggested freedom.  
  
She checked over her shoulder again before turning back to the door and reaching out to try it. Locked. She pulled out the radio and took off the back, scanning the inside before stripping it of two wires and hooking them up to the lock, pressing a button and frying it and letting it fall open. A blaring alarm started as soon as she pushed on it. But the door was open, and sweet, sweet, sunlight was pouring through the gap along with a breath of fresh air. So, the element of surprise and sneaking be damned, she booked it outside.  
  
She clumsily made it halfway out into the courtyard before she heard yells and screams from the guards and patrols, and then not long after bullets whizzing past her as she made her way for the trees. She let out a scream as one hit her shoulder just outside the area of the kevlar, then covered her mouth and continued to run for cover. She could see her freedom in front of her. An old dirt road.   
  
  
Natasha drove with Clint in the passenger seat of the leading jeep, following the GPS down the dirt road to the abandoned building. They were approaching steadfast, the teams following in the next two jeeps readying their weapons to ditch their vehicles and assault on command.  
  
"Stop the vehicle!" Clint yelled as Natasha came to a screeching halt. The archer jumped out of the jeep and ran to the figure stumbling and tripping down the road.  
  
"Evelyn? Evelyn!" He called to her, the closer he got, the worse she appeared. Covering in bruises and cuts from head to toe, ripped clothes, messy hair, dried tears staining her ghostly pallid cheeks. And she'd lost considerable weight in the last five days she'd been gone.  
  
But she wasn't stopping in her walk when he called her name. "Evelyn. It's Clint..." He stood in front of her to stop her staring at the road and walking. Her head snapped up, body shaking like a leaf but her hands gripping a knife and a broken piece of tech that at one point could have been a working radio. ready to strike. "Its Clint." He held up his hands in passive surrender and she looked him up and down, almost like she didn't recognise him. For a moment, Clint feared the possibility of brainwashing and his chest seized tightly.   
  
But then her arms slowly, slowly, lowered and her eyes shone glassy with newly forming tears. "Are you okay?" Clint asked regardless of how stupid that question was considering just one glance said evidently not.  
  
She looked at him, corners of her mouth twitching up into a bitter smile. "Peachy."  
  
 **Thud.**  
  
The girl face-planted the dirt, unconscious.  
  
"Fuck!" Clint shouted as he knelt by the kid, picking her up and limply into his arms, muttering curses and swears as he held her pulse keep steady.  
  
"Clint, we have bigger problems." Natasha's voice made him glance up to see their position had been compromised, and soldiers were quickly heading down to greet them.  
  
Clint looked down at Evelyn, then back at the approaching platoon. "MedEvac. Now. Be very careful with her. We'll deal with this." He carefully handed Evelyn over to the medical team sitting in their jeep before twisting around, pressing a button on his bow and unloading a particularly nasty arrow into his bow. "This is going to hurt them a hell of a lot more than it will hurt us." He fired the arrow to land in their path a few paces before them.   
  
A sonic pulse erupted from the ground, sending the first wave of agents flying out in an explosion style movement with a sharp ringing in their ears.  
  
Black Widow glanced at Hawkeye, powering up her Widow's Bite as Hawkeye knocked another special arrow. The group charged at the building.   
  
They were going to pay for what they did to his girl.


	43. Surgery

**Wednesday Morning - 9:42am**  
Clint had never like the infirmary. He just didn't enjoy doctors at the best of times. The walls were too white, it always stunk of bleach, and never failed to make his stomach lurch. Waiting outside in the corridor overnight for the verdict on Evelyn was no different.  
  
The attack on the HYDRA facility had been carnage. A blur of bullets, blood, and arrows had filled his mind and nothing else. They left the building with no one on the other side alive before rushing back to SHIELD with the girl and handing her over to the doctors while Clint and Nat were equally bandaged and dressed only a few doors down from her room. They hadn't let any of them inside yet, instead, they made the agents wait along with Coulson for two hours before a doctor came out to say she was stable. But she would require surgery to remove the bullet and receive stitches for particularly gruesome injuries on the rest of her body.  
  
With the go-ahead, the doctor disappeared back into the room and the trio was left outside on the uncomfortable plastic chairs and the smell of disinfectant in the air. Coulson had suggested Clint go home to sleep, but Barton immediately refused. Even with how tired he was from running himself rampant looking for the girl and then the fight afterwards, he had to be there when she woke up. This had been his fault, he brought her into this mess, the least he could do was stick around when he needed to clean up his own messes. Natasha stayed too, keeping Clint company and trying her best to reassure him of the track record of SHIELD's successful medic team and surgeons.vBut that feeling in his gut would not lighten until he saw her again.  
  
So, come Wednesday morning, dozing lightly in his chair, the archer was roused from his nap by the agent shaking his shoulder. Blinking and rubbing his eyes, they fell on the doctor waiting for his attention standing in front of Evelyn's room. "The surgery went as well as it could have. The bullet from her shoulder was removed and patched up, and her smaller wounds have been cleaned and dressed. She has responded well to the treatment - she does not need a blood transfusion, and overall there seems to be no sign of infection in her body. As long as Miss Summers takes the medication we prescribe her she should be completely fine."  
  
Clint breathed a sigh of relief, his stomach easing.  
  
"How long do you think until she's up and about?" Natasha asked.  
  
"I can't say, that depends on her. She's going to be in an awful lot of pain after her surgery and will need plenty of bed rest to recover." The doctor flipped through the pages on his clipboard, muttering nonsense to himself.  
  
"I don't think she's going to enjoy hearing that," Clint said with a hint of a smile.  
  
"Well, if she wants to be out of the infirmary faster, then she will just have to bear it. And it's honestly not that bad here. The jello is amazing."   
  
"Thank you, Doctor." Coulson nodded.  
  
"You can go in if you like but she is currently still sleeping off the painkillers from her operation. And I would keep visitors to a minimum."  
  
  
The trio entered the room together, Natasha perching on a table to the left of the bed, Coulson standing guard by the door, and Clint taking a seat on the direct right side of the bed. "Feel better?" The redhead asked as Barton sat back, resting his cheek on his hand.  
  
"A little." Clint looked over Evelyn's body with concerned eyes.  
  
There was an IV in her left arm, a heart monitor connected to her right, both arms rested on top of the blue sheet with her palms wrapped up in white bandages and her knuckles bruised. There were similar scars going up her arms and covering her face, cleaned and held together by strips with an angry red painting her cheekbones, starting to yellow. Her surgery wound had been hidden by the mandatory paper dress shoulders, and the hair framing her face was jagged in places, as if someone had tried to cut it off with a blunted object. She looked like hell.  
  
"How did she even manage to get out of that place by herself? With only a broken radio and a knife?" Coulson asked, recalling the items confiscated from her person when they brought her through to the medical bay.  
  
"I don't know. Just gonna have to ask her when she wakes up." Clin replied, eyes breaking away from Evelyn to look at the other two.  "I can tell you what, though, if this story gets out to the rest of SHIELD that a nineteen-year-old managed to rescue herself from a HYDRA facility with nothing but a broken radio and knife before Hawkeye and Black Widow even got there, we're going to be the butt-end of a lot of jokes for a while."  
  
"Well, you will be. No one would dare to try with me." Natasha smiled, folding her arms. Clint huffed in silent agreement.  
  
Coulson cleared his throat. "What was your fight about that night? Before all of this happened?"  
  
Clint hesitated, his eyes drifting back to the girl still unconscious on her bed and internally winced at the guilt practically nipping at his skin. "I told Evelyn that I was going to be away on a mission for a few days. She started getting agitated and told me she didn't want me to go, or more told me I  _couldn't_ go and leave her alone. Things escalated, and I told her that things weren't always going to be convenient for her and that she was just going to have to be a big girl and deal with it." The room was quiet. "Though I didn't sound half as polite then as I just did now. And I'm pretty sure I made her scared of me for just a second."  
  
Phil hummed, "Looks like she took your advice to heart. She became a big girl and got herself out of the bad situation without waiting on or asking for help." He looked over at Evelyn. "It's admirable," He said, "When she wakes, we will be needing a full report from her about what happened and what we don't already know."  
  
"Let her breathe first. She's been through a lot these past few days I doubt she'll be in the mood to talk about it so soon."  
  
" _Ouch..._ " A croaky voice belonging to neither of the three agents in the room mumbled out. All three heads snapped in the direction of the body slowly shifting around in her bed as she came into consciousness.  
  
"Heeeey." Clint watched as she slowly blinked open her eyes, staring up at the ceiling. Her attention was first drawn to the IV in her arm, brow furrowing as if she didn't know what it was, before making a move to shift and sit up. "Don't get up so quickly. You've only just been patched up." The archer reached out his arms for stability in case she fell.  
  
The girl yelped suddenly as she put pressure on her arms. "Ow! Why does my shoulder feel like its being ripped off my body?" She put her right hand over her shoulder, grimacing painfully.  
  
"Probably because you had a bullet in it less than a few hours ago." Clint chuckled breathily as Evelyn continued to examine her arms and shoulder wound with dazed eyes and a frowny face. "You okay? Other than the obvious pains and aches?"  
  
"Um... yeah. I'm- I'm fine. Thank you." The teenager stammered and pushed herself up completely, not one movement looking less than painful before she managed to properly lean against the pillows and let out a sigh, relaxing. She rested her hands in her lap softly before finally looking over at Clint for the first time since opening her forest eyes to the room.  
  
Barton tried his best to give her a reassuring smile. "There. Okay now?"  
  
"Yeah." She nodded lazily, then wet her lips, eyebrows drawing close. "Also, I'm really sorry to ask you this but, uh... do I know you?" She asked, politely.  
  
Clint's insides turned to ice.  
  
No. No, no, no, no, no. This was not happening. She couldn't have- she was joking, surely.  
  
The look on her face said otherwise.And Natasha and Coulson wore equal expressions of dread.  
  
No. That's not fair. He can't have let them do this to her. She was his responsibility. How could he have let them get to her? How could she have forgotten him? She hadn't recognised him on the dirt road outside the facility-  
  
His thoughts were interrupted by a stream of scratchy giggles. "The looks on all your faces!" Evelyn laughed harder, girlish and giggly from the pain meds still wearing off. "Oh, ow. Ow. Ow. My stomach hurts. Ow." She put her hand on her gut, letting out a few last chuckles intermittent with sharp cringing.  
  
"Oh, if you hadn't just come out of surgery, the ass-kicking I would be giving you right now for that little performance..." Clint grumbled at her with a playful scowl. Evelyn practically beamed at him. He let out a small sigh. "Glad to see your sense of humour is still intact."  
  
"As are all of my limbs. I think." Evelyn held a thoughtful expression and then lifted the sheet covering her lower half to peer under, wiggling her toes and nodding to herself. "Yep. All there. There would be nothing worse than waking up from surgery and realise you're missing a few things you'd rather not be missing." She let the sheet fall back to cover her lap.  
  
"Nope. You're mainly just missing shoulder tissue... and your clean record of never being kidnapped." The redhead nodded with a teasing smile in hopes of lightening the mood.  
  
"Yep. HYDRA know who I am now, and they know I know you, they knew where I lived. Who knows what else?" She ran her wrapped hands over her face with a groan.  
  
Then she suddenly jolted, bolting upright and brought her legs up as if to stand, heart monitor suddenly flipping out.  
  
"Whoa, where do you think you're going?" Clint stuck his arms out, trying to gently settle her back in the bed.  
  
"My grandparents! I have to tell them. They could be in danger." She blurted, still moving against his hands and whining and flinching with every move she made.  
  
"Evelyn, Evelyn, Evie, relax. You're going to strain yourself. Its all been worked out, it's okay." Natasha took a few steps towards the bed when Evelyn ignored Clint's attempts to keep her still.  
  
The teenager paused. "It's been worked out?" She looked up at the redhead.  
  
"SHIELD has put up a patrol car on the street and are keeping an eye on the house. And your apartment. If anything happens, we will know and they will have protection." Coulson confirmed. Evelyn swallowed with a nod, taking a deep breath before allowing Barton to relax her back against the pillows and avoid vomiting from the sudden nauseating movement. The sudden frantic beeping from the machine also returned to the regular rhythmic beat. "Although a better precaution knowing HYDRA would be to ask your family members to move." The suited agent added.  
  
"What? Are you serious? I can't just ask them to pick up and move. That's their house, and it has been for over a decade. That means something to them." Evie baulked at the idea.  
  
"We don't know if they're aware of your family, Miss Summers, but we are doing everything we can to find out the extent of knowledge they have about you. And after you've recovered, any information you could give us regarding what happened to you when in the facility would be useful." Coulson replied calmly. Evie still like the idea, but she knew the intention of safety was there. "Frankly, I'm surprised you're as calm as you are following the experience."  
  
"That's only because the pain is taking away my concentration from everything else. I'm sure my anxiety and shock will kick in soon enough."  
  
"There is also the question of your Exam Week next week."  
  
It was Clint's turn to baulk. "What? You can't honestly expect her to still sit her exams after all this? She's been kidnapped and tortured by HYDRA for five days, not to mention her  _surgery_."  
  
"Be that as it may, circumstances dictate that Miss Summers must either conform to the exam rules next week like the rest of the trainees in her class or be scheduled for a Retrial Month under special conditions."  
  
"A Retrial? She'll have to repeat everything. And when? Next year?"   
  
"And she's missed half her study week already. How is that fair?" Nat jumped in.  
  
"No.  _No_. It's not fair. I say no."  
  
"I'll do it," Evelyn said.  
  
"What?" Clint snapped his head to the teenager who nodded at him, confirming. "Evelyn. The doctors said they don't know how long they'll have to keep you here and you're too badly injured. I say no."  
  
"Well it's a good thing I don't always need your permission then, isn't it?" She said with an edge of spite before looking back at Phil. "I want to do it. If I'm out of the infirmary by Monday, I want to do it."  
  
"It is your choice. We can allow you special consideration for your injuries-"  
  
"I don't want it," Evelyn cut him off.  
  
"Are you sure?" Coulson drew his brow. The girl nodded again. He was surprised but tried his best not to let it register on his face. "As you wish. I'll fetch you your sheets and timetable for the Trials."  
  
"Thank you."  
  
And with the parting thanks, Coulson nodded to the other two agents and disappeared out of sight, the door clicking shut behind him.  
  
It was quiet for a few moments, the sounds of the heart monitor beside the bed and the light buzzing of the various other pieces of equipment the only noise in the room.  
  
"How do you feel?" Natasha asked, officially.  
  
"Everything hurts," Evie replied.  
  
"Do you want more pain meds?" Clint was already reaching for a remote beside the bed.  
  
"I'm fine. I'm already teetering on the edge of losing my sanity, more drugs aren't gonna help. Remember what I said about thinking I was a Zebra for a week after spraining my ankle as a kid?" She batted Clint's hand away from the remote, not entirely sure what it was for in the first place.  
  
"Do you want to sleep?"  
  
"No. I've slept enough." The teen shook her head at Nat, not lending the answer entirely to the idea of actually sleeping. She wanted rest, but she didn't want to miss this.  
  
"You're taking this a lot better than some people would," The archer told her, sincerely. Evelyn just hummed. "I put you in danger," He tacked on.  
  
"Don't."  
  
"It's my fault."  
  
"Barton-"  
  
"I got you involved in all this."  
  
"I  _chose_ to be involved." Evelyn fixed him with a look, one that told him he should shut his mouth about it or else he was going to have an exhausted, pain-filled,  _grumpy_ teenager on his hands. Evie cleared her croaky throat. "About Thursday night-"  
  
"I'm-"  
  
"Stop interrupting me or I'll stick a scalpel up your ass... as soon as my arms stop feeling numb." She narrowed her eyes, pointing a finger. Clint wisely closed his lips, and Evelyn let her arm drop back to the bed. "Look, it was gonna happen, okay? Dangers of being a spy and an assassin. Did you really think I'd get through this without something happening?" She raised an expectant eyebrow. When she received no answer, she nodded, "Right. So stop wallowing in self-pity because that's my job. And... I'm sorry about Thursday night." Clint looked up, opening his mouth, but Evie quickly shoved her hand into his face to stop him. "I was being selfish. I was scared that if you went I wouldn't be able to survive, that something would happen and I'd have no idea what to do. Natasha, Coulson, Fury, Thomas, no one else even came close to mind. And I'm sorry. Because that's not fair on you, both as a person and an agent." She dropped her hand to the bed, eyes falling from Clint's gaze to where he'd begun fiddling with the blue bedsheet.  
  
Clint remained silent for a few moments before talking. "I was wrong to yell. I didn't mean to scare you. When Coulson told me about sending me on the mission, I'd argued the hell with him, but then he said he was going too, and Coulson has been my mentor since I came here so I knew I had to go. So the fear you had of me leaving was the same thing I would have had Coulson gone on his own to the site without me. The guy's practically my pseudo-father."  
  
"I'm sorry," Evie mumbled, honestly.  
  
Clint reached out and picked up her less-injured hand. "No more apologising. There's been enough of that already. And you need your rest if you want to be able to finish your exams next week with a clear head."  
  
Evie's raised an eyebrow at him. "You're  _letting_ me do them?"  
  
"I thought you didn't need this old man's permission." The beginning of that smirk on his face was contagious for everyone.  
  
"I mean, yeah, I was gonna do them regardless, but I'm glad you want to let me."  
  
Clint laughed, a deep rumbling sound that made Evelyn's smile grow wider. "Missed you, Evie."  
  
"Missed you too, old man." Clint groaned, leaning back and throwing his hands in the air in exasperation. Evie laughed. "Hey, you said it first that time."


	44. Teddy bear

**A few hours later**  
Despite what she'd said, at some point during the conversation, Evelyn had stopped talking and slipped back into her dreams. It took a very long grilling from Natasha to stop Clint from getting a doctor to make sure she wasn't in a coma or demand there be a doctor waiting outside 24/7.  
  
Eventually, however, when it was scheduled for Agent lunchtime, Clint stayed beside the teenager as Natasha gathered up some lunch supplies and brought them back to the room. A gentle shake of the shoulder and Evie was up, if a bit cranky, and happy to eat something real and not just nutrients supplied by her medicine IV. Though the doctors reccomended they start with food high in sugar to replace what she lost. Obviously, the teenager had zero complaints.  
  
Clint was just taking Evie's lunch tray off her lap when there was a knock at the door. Natasha called for the person to come in, and a familiar lean blond poked his head inside, doing a quick check, before stepping into view completely and shutting the door.  
  
"And just where have you been? I sent you out hours ago." Clint complained at the trainee.  
  
"Dealing with a very strict perimeter of SHIELD patrol, sir. I had to spend twenty minutes convincing them I was actually sent by you personally. A few of them were laughing." Thomas answered, suddenly bashful with his head bowed slightly, before glancing up and catching Evelyn's eye, smirking. "And she's alive. This is yours, I do so believe." He walked over to the bed, gently settling the item in hand on her bed.  
  
The teddy bear from the carnival was sat on her lap, not in her apartment where it used to reside, and the girl looked up with a fond smile. "Thanks, Thomas."  
  
"Also, why didn't you tell me that you knew..." Thomas gestured vaguely between Romanoff, Barton, and herself with an almost annoyed frown on his face.  
  
"For the record, I would be giggling at your embarrassment right now if it didn't hurt like a bitch from getting shot." The teenager smirked wickedly.  
  
"I'll bloody shoot you," Denver muttered under his breath before catching Clint's eye. The glare he received for his joke was nothing short of deathly. "Not really. I swear." He caved quickly under the haunting stare and nearly started to squirm as Clint narrowed his eyes. "I apologise." He blurted at Evelyn with the same level of panic as if having upset the Director of SHIELD himself.  
  
"Clint, leave him alone. He's good." Evie shook her head with a grin, waving a hand at the archer to try and get him to back off on the glaring. Like a true hawk, he had been staring essentially without blinking. She picked up the bear from her lap. "Thank you again for getting this."  
  
"Agent Barton asked me to," Thomas mumbled, trying to avoid said agent's eye.  
  
"And just when did you two become acquainted, may I ask?" Evie said, not bothering to hide the tone of smug satisfaction in her voice at watching Denver's usually smooth demeanour practically crumble in front of him.  
  
"He came up to me yesterday and asked me if I knew where you were. I told him I didn't know because you missed our lunch date," Thomas explained, with what Evelyn could have sworn was the tiniest hint of spite in his voice.  
  
"You're not actually pissed that I missed lunch, are you?" She raised an eyebrow, calmly. Denver stared at her, wordlessly, and Evelyn's mouth dropped open with a huff. "I was  _kidnapped_. I barely got out of there in the first place."  
  
"Well, you should have rescued yourself sooner."  
  
"Just to come see you for lunch?"  
  
"Yes," Thomas confirmed with a curt nod.  
  
Evelyn scoffed, throwing her hands up. "Unbelievable. Not enough that I rescued myself from a facility run by  _HYDRA_ , in part, but I'm told to rescue myself sooner for a lunch date." She looked between Clint and Nat to see if they just heard what she'd just heard.  
  
The two shared gentle smiles between each other and Evie gave up, leaning back against her pillows with a long sigh. "What did happen after I passed out on the road?" She asked as Denver moved to the side to look around the rest of the room.  
  
"Clint went beserk."  
  
"Nat."  
  
"Honestly I don't think I've ever seen him so angry. Its the first time I've ever seen him lose control like that. Long story short, the people working in that facility aren't walking out of there again." Romanoff answered, shrugging her crossed arms gently.  
  
"You did that because of me?" Evie furrowed her brow at Clint.  
  
"I went a little off-kilter. I wanted them to hurt like they'd hurt you. I only saw your state for a second and I just saw red." His own eyes drifted away, not entirely proud of what he did looking back on it, but not regretting any of it either.  
  
"I don't think I've ever had a friend before that would do something like that for me." The teen muttered softly.  
  
Natasha smiled. "Now you have two."  
  
"Three," Thomas perked up from the corner. Then with a quick look between the two Level 7 agents looking back at him, he turned away. "Or two. Two's fine. Two's a good number, a nice... even number." He started playing with the leaf of the fake room plant he found more interesting than this conversation.  
  
Evie grinned at the fanboy, then turned back to the two other agents. "Thank you. Both of you. I'd probably be dead in a ditch if you didn't show up."  
  
"I don't want to think about that." Clint brushed it off.  
  
"Don't be dramatic. We did all this the first time. And if you keep talking like that, I'm going back to sleep." She warned, cuddling the teddy bear in her hands to her chest.  
  
"And we wouldn't want that, would we?" Thomas chuckled.  
  
"Oh, shut up, Buffers."  
  
"Buffers? Why are you..." Denver wore a look of outright confusion, staring at Evelyn. She pulled an invisible chain above her twice, smirking widely back at him. "Train buffers," Thomas realised and pinched the bridge of his nose with a disappointed sigh and shake of his head. "Well, it's better than 'Tank Engine', I suppose."  
  
" _They're two, they're four, they're six, and-"_  
  
" _No_." Thomas glared at her, feeling an indignant flare in his cheeks. Or perhaps that was embarrassment due to the two people he greatly respected sitting in the room with them.  
  
"Let me have a little fun. I mean, I got shot, dude, and I'm probably going to be bedridden for the rest of the week."  
  
"Are you going to be doing your exams, still? Even in your current condition?" Thomas nodded in a gesture to her whole body. Even anyone who hadn't the knowledge of what had happened to her could easily tell there'd been a pretty damn difficult scuffle.  
  
"I'm gonna try. Doesn't mean I'm going to pass but I'm sure as hell gonna try." She nodded back.  
  
"They'll give you special consideration for the past week and stuff, at least."  
  
Evelyn shook her head and revealed, "No, they won't because I asked them not to."  
  
Denver blinked, incredulously. "Why? Why would you do that?"  
  
"Because I'm an idiot," Evelyn declared without a hint of hesitation. "And I'd rather just get through it without the helping hand. I'm already one of the youngest applicants here, one of the least experienced, I had no idea what SHIELD was up until a month ago, and recently learned my brain can't comprehend the thought of killing anyone regardless of circumstance, so special consideration isn't really going to help too much in the long run. I'd rather just get told I don't make the cut rather than take the consideration and  _then_ be told I don't make the cut." She explained with a shrug, then cursing herself when it pulled on her shoulder wound she had almost forgotten about.  
  
The other trainee ran his hands over his face and shook his head free of the questions of  _'just why?'_ before looking back at her. "You are... something else, you know that, Summers?" Thomas raised an eyebrow at the girl laying smiling in the infirmary bed.  
  
Evie stuck out her tongue at him. The room laughed.  
  
  
The rest of the week passed blurrily. Evie wasn't sure if that was up to the drugs in her system and the amount of sleep she was catching up on or if it felt like that for everyone. Clint and Natasha had to eventually return to their desks and own private work, which Clint nearly threw a tiny tantrum over until he was persuaded by the doctor's promises and being able to appoint Thomas to all but babysit Evelyn and study for the upcoming exams with her.   
  
And it didn't hurt to trade over knowledge and experience, as Evelyn found it increasingly clear that Denver was not at all versed in next to anything technological or mechanical outside of basic mission tech and weapons. It seemed his academic skills came from the medical side of things as well as economics. When she questioned him, Thomas promised he'd explain when he decided he was comfortable enough to share his 'tragic backstory'. She decided that was fair enough.  
  
And much sooner than anyone wanted, the week of paper examinations and their final evaluation came. The healing process for Evelyn had been slow and arduous, and still, she wasn't completely healed by Monday. However, when Evelyn argued incredibly lucidly for someone pumped full of painkillers over getting through her exams, Coulson eventually relented, and Evie was authorised to finish her trials.  
  
Evelyn was out of the infirmary from Monday to Friday only for the allotted time her paper trials were appointed, then she had to be escorted back again. She, the same as all other trainees, wasn't allowed to see Clint or Natasha for the whole week or any other important members of SHIELD due to examination conditions, and so Thomas ended up being her main outlet for stress and vice versa. And the week was a long one, being yanked out of sleep to then be thrown at her trials then forced back to sleep while trying to make time for study made her rethink her decision to continue, or her disregard for offer of consideration, but still she pushed on in stubbornness until the final paper of Friday afternoon when she was both cleared for leaving the infirmary and able to be taken home by Clint.  
  
They'd decided to let Evelyn sleep the night at Clint's. The thought of sleeping alone in her apartment regardless of the security waiting there wasn't too appealing, so Clint let her stay in the guest room with Lucky happily sleeping guard outside the door. The following week was spent in between bouts of anxiety and calm for Evelyn, worrying about her exams mixed with going to check up on her grandparents and having to explain what was left visible from her faded facial bruises and why she was wincing when her grandfather hugged her tightly. She remained sleeping at Clint's as the two agreed she would until they knew the results of the exams. Being separated on a week like this, particularly after what happened when they were last split apart for longer than a few days, was something they both mentally agreed they were not comfortable with yet.   
  
And then the day came when her letter was posted through Clint's door. Friday the 5th of October. A day to remember.  
  
The envelope was heavy in Clint's hands, and even heavier when he held it out to Evelyn playing with Lucky and a tug rope toy on the carpet. The girl looked up with a grin before spotting the envelope in his hands, and the smile slowly slipped off of her face, and her mood along with her stomach dropped through the floor. She took the paper off him with an unsure hand, scanning the address and seal before glancing back up at Clint. He would have asked if she wanted privacy if she hadn't run off upstairs to the guest room before he'd managed to get a word out.  
  
The Agent decided he would leave her alone and she would come and tell him when he was ready, so he sat in an armchair beside where Lucky continued to play with the toy, blissfully unaware of the stress in the house like a pulled-taut rubber band.  
  
A few moments later, Lucky suddenly sat up from where he'd been lying leisurely, and after a second of silent contemplation, he ran up the stairs like lightning and scrambled into the guest room. Clint doubted he'd ever seen the canine move so fast before, or maybe only once or twice. He swallowed, giving it a few moments before calmly climbing the stairs up to the landing and to the room door, already slightly ajar.  
  
The archer pushed lightly on the door, the opening creak alerting a sniffing Evelyn to his presence and making the teen look up from burying her face in Lucky's fur. Her eyes were glassy, but tears weren't quite falling yet. The shadow cast by the landing light into  ~~the guest room~~  Evie's room made Clint feel like a lumbering tower of worthlessness hanging over Evelyn. He stepped into the room regardless of his own feelings and gently approached the bed to sit beside the teenager. She allowed Lucky to jump off the bed and curl around her legs, leaving a gap between the two humans.  
  
"Evelyn..." Barton started, but the girl's eyes remained staring down at Lucky's fur. Clint kept himself steady. "It's alright." He tried again, reaching for her hand and taking it in his, only realising how much smaller her hands actually were, or perhaps that was due to her lack of a proper full meal lately. He squeezed her hand once, sympathetically, when she didn't look up at him. "Its gonna be okay," He promised her. Clint didn't know how it would be okay, but he promised it anyway.   
  
Forest green eyes rimmed with red veins flicked up to his crystal blues with a soft whisper.  
  
"I've been accepted."


	45. Files

**Monday - 8th October**  
Agents filed out of the SHIELD lecture hall at the dismissal of Agent Coulson and Director Fury. Many were unobservant or perhaps just didn't want to look at Agent Barton waiting beside the open door, arms folded with his casual resting bitch face. But he wasn't looking to interact with anyone except the bob of brunette hair that nearly walked right past her with her head slightly bowed in her normal posture when walking alone.  
  
Clint tapped her shoulder before she managed to scurry off to wherever. "Hey." He smiled as Evie turned around, then returned the grin brightly. "Got your file?"  
  
"Yep." She held up the file she'd been given through her induction speech, something about SHIELD being required to offer all new agents a file with what information they had collected about them, along with feedback sheets in case things needed to be changed or negotiating the removal of certain details.   
  
She leaned on the wall beside Barton, flipping it open for the first time. Scanning over the basics was fine, she wasn't too bothered or surprised by their insight into her character, not even questioning how they knew her middle name which she had never told them or shown proper ID for. But something caught her attention specifically, towards the bottom of the page detailed in bold.  
  
"'Harley'?" She furrowed her brow at the name printed out beside the  **'Alias/Codename'**  section, looking to Clint, confused.  
  
"Yeah, 'Harley'. You know, as in Harley Davidson? Motorcycles? Mechanics?" He tried to explain. She continued to stare at him, brow drawn, eyes boring into him and slowly eating at his pride. He glanced away. "I thought it was clever. You could probably get it changed if you really wanted." Clint mumbled at the end, seeming a little put out at the idea that she didn't like the name.  
  
"I like it." She suddenly smiled.  
  
Clint perked up, a smile returning to his face proudly. "Also, 'Evelyn  _Grace_ Summers'?" He tapped his fingers beside her full name displayed on the sheet.  
  
"Yes, I have a middle name. Don't look so betrayed, it's not like you ever asked."  
  
Clint folded his arms, leaning back on the wall casually now that the hallway was mostly devoid of other agents. "Hm. Do you ever notice how some people name their kids after what they hope they'll have in their personality when they grow up? Faith, Joy, Hope, Patience. Doesn't always work though, does it? Because the last thing you have in your life, Evie, is  _grace_."  
  
"Shut your damn mouth, Clinton Francis."  
  
Barton blinked before his face scrunched up in discomfort. "How?" He ran his hands over his face and through his hair.  
  
"HYDRA," She answered, happily.  
  
Clint cursed himself out internally before speaking. "I'm gonna take a wild guess and say that you laughed when you heard that."  
  
"Maybe a little. Mostly to spite the guy punching me." Evelyn nudged him gently with her shoulder to get him to lighten up. "I didn't tell them anything, by the way. I know that's what Coulson is really worried about. I told him in my written report that I didn't say anything to them."  
  
"I don't think either me or Nat even thought about what you might have said under interrogation. All I was worried about was if you were still alive." The archer said, losing his natural friendly air for a few moments before reaching out and ruffling her hair. "I'd doubt you'd give up that easily, anyway. Phil said he saw a bit of myself in you, my stubbornness specifically. I'd be surprised if you opened your mouth to them to spit out anything but insults."  
  
She shrugged in agreement. "I did say 'fuck you' a lot."  
  
  
Sitting at a bench in the cafeteria and dropping her tray and file on the table, Evie sighed. The two had decided to grab food before figuring out what to do with the rest of their day, Clint having for once caught up on all his paperwork and Evie seemingly waiting on being given her first orders.  
  
"Oh, what am I gonna do now? I mean, this is... surreal. It also means I have to go back to my apartment now. And tell my grandparents." She played with the pages of the file with her left hand, her right picking up the plastic fork that came with her pasta dish.  
  
"You could move in with me. Properly, I mean. Or just get better locks on your windows and doors. In fact, better security overall couldn't be a bad thing for the whole building, that place is so run down its laughable." Clint swung his leg over the bench and sat down next to her with his salad bowl.  
  
She shook her head, "Thanks for the offer but I don't really think that's what I want just yet. And not all the people living in the apartments are there because they want to be. Mr Martinez and Macy live there because its close to the school and since Macy's mother died, Darren hasn't been able to afford to move them. Mr and Mrs Palmer on the first floor have Clarissa and Mrs Palmer is in a wheelchair. Then Mr Tucker lives across from them because a friend of his owns the building and he's currently unemployed with a criminal record for petty thievery." She rattled off, looking at Clint's expression growing steadily more understanding with an underlying feeling of defeat at the stories. "Nobody complains about the conditions because they don't want to get kicked out on their asses. So we make do with what we have. I mean, you saw my apartment." She referred back to her cyborg style kitchen and laptop that was currently sitting in SHIELD storage being scanned for HYDRA detail, much to her annoyance and slight embarrassment.  
  
"I thought that's because you don't like to use the money your grandparents give you." Clint brought up, starting to eat.  
  
"Its a mix of both." She said, taking a bite of her own and swallowing. "But thank you for the offer, regardless."  
  
"I mean, I'm sure you'd be happy to get yourself things with your own money now. The pay here is good, especially for Consultants." He smiled proudly at her and her new title.  
  
Evie paused, fork halfway to her mouth. "The thought had actually not crossed my mind until now." She said honestly before finishing the bite on her fork.  
  
"You'll find out the exact figures and details of your job when you get given your contract."  
  
She huffed, still almost in disbelief at the whole situation. It was markedly different than her situation three months ago. "This is really happening."  
  
A sudden presence quickly approaching the table interrupted to the two agents to look at the imposing figure standing above them: Thomas Denver looking particularly miffed with something grasped tight in his hand. "Buffers," He blurted at her.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Look." His file was unceremoniously shoved into her hands, narrowly missing being dunked into the sauce of her lunch.  
  
Evelyn furrowed her brow, flipping it open and scanning the page with an impressed mind over his success in becoming an official Agent before she came to the alias/codenames listed on the page.  
  
 **' _Buffers'_** , it read loud and clear. "Oh my fuck, that's amazing!" Evelyn giggled in delight before turning to the archer beside her. "You didn't have anything to do with this by any chance, did you, Agent Barton?" She held the file open for him to see.  
  
"I would take it as a compliment, Agent Denver," Clint responded, looking at the blond. Evie smiled as she noticed the term 'agent' and not 'trainee' anymore. "Buffers lessen the impact of something. They stand strong against force. You were looking to be a field agent, right? Standing strong is a good attribute."  
  
"And it is technically a synonym for 'Shield' so... you got that going for you." Evie passed him back the file, careful not to get any food on it.  
  
Thomas's mouth scrunched up, eyes narrowing and looking between the two agents sat in front of him before his face finally relaxed and he acquiesced. "Okay, I suppose it isn't as bad as I first thought. Plus, at least not everyone knows who gave it or why that name was really given to me originally." He gave a side-eye to Evelyn.  
  
"I got 'Harley'." She replied with a shrug.  
  
"As in... Harley Davidson?" A nod. Thomas grinned. "Not bad for a techie."  
  
"She would have been accepted into the SHIELD Academy for Science and Technology if she had a PhD, according to her exam results," Barton revealed smoothly.  
  
Evie looked back at him, surprise written on her face, before turning back to Denver. "I didn't know that." She said, "Maybe I should try going to a university and actually studying for one." The teenager considered.  
  
"SHIELD has some pull at MIT if you wanted-"  
  
"Clint."  
  
The archer held up his hands. "I know, I know. You'd wanna get there by yourself. But I'm just saying we could make it so they don't judge on reputation. Skills and knowledge would be entirely up to you."  
  
Evie sat quietly, contemplating as she stabbed at her pasta before looking back up again. "I'll think about it. Plus, I don't think I'd get in, anyway. I might be smart but I'm not that smart. Anyway, I've got a proper job now, haven't I?"  
  
"After you sign," Clint reminded her.  
  
Thomas cleared his throat. "That's actually why I came to find you in the first place, other than to ask about my name. Fury wants to see you in his office. Now."  
  
  
  
"Coffee?"  
  
"I'd love one." Evelyn smiled at her grandfather quickly disappearing into the kitchen, sitting in the armchair across from her grandma already sipping her half-finished tea.  
  
"So, how's everything going now the summer is over? Any new developments?" Irene nursed her cup between both hands, settling it steadily on her knee.  
  
"I've got a proper job now. I passed my trial run." The teen smiled brightly at her.  
  
Her grandmother listened and nodded pridefully. "Oh, congratulations. What are you doing, then? You didn't say anything about it when you first told me."  
  
 _"Miss Summers, congratulations on your graduation to full agent status as a Consultant. As you are in your first year here, it is recommended that most new agents have a handler to monitor progress, usually assigned within your specialist area. Under the circumstances noted in your file, Agent Barton will be your handler. Please refer all future questions to him." Coulson relayed to her, sat across from Fury once again in the office so high up she felt dizzy looking out of the ceiling to floor window behind them.  
  
Clint winked at her when she caught his eye. Evie tried her best not to smirk and instead just kept her eyes on Coulson as he talked.  
  
"You are being put on the Hellicarrier project as an engineer. You will work with our team in repairs and building. Your timetable and details of your job will be emailed to you soon." The suited man continued to explain, and Evelyn tried her best not to freak out like she really really wanted to.  
  
Fury reached his arm across the desk, shaking her hand calmly. "We wish you the best of luck, Miss Summers."_  
  
"I'm working at a tech company on some of the larger machines. My position is as a Technological Consultant." Evelyn had been informed of what she could and couldn't say to her family or anyone not within SHIELD. And she couldn't really disagree with the stringent contingency rules about secrecy, especially when it reminded her that the house location was possibly known to HYDRA. But so far there had been no attempts of a break-in, luckily for the family.  
  
"Its good to see you doing something you enjoy." Raymond came back in holding two mugs, setting one for her down on the stained coaster with only a little bit of spillage from the mug.  
  
"Definitely." Evie picked it up and for once remembered not to immediately scold herself on the hot drink. "I think things are really swinging my way. Though I probably shouldn't say that in case I jinx it for myself." She muttered the last part.  
  
"I didn't hear a thing." Her grandfather nodded with a wink before going to sit beside his wife.  
  
"And how is your friend... um, something Barton, I think?" Irene asked.  
  
"Clint. Although he would really love if you called him Clinton if you see him again." Evie smirked to herself. "He's good. I'm working with him full-time now. Since he's worked at this company for longer than I have, he gets to show me the ropes and I don't have to figure out everything from scratch." She told them as the two nodded along when Evie stopped to finally take her first sip of the coffee. "I might also be moving out of the Ashforn Apartments, though." She mumbled into her mug.  
  
"Why is that?"  
  
She shrugged nonchalantly. "I just fancy a change. Don't worry, I'm not moving back in, you'll have your peace and quiet." She smiled gently at the two adults who just looked to each other with knowing smiles. Then Evelyn remembered something she hadn't had the chance to ask the week before. "Have you noticed anything out of the ordinary recently? Either here or around the neighbourhood?" She tried to ask as non-suspiciously as she could, practically able to hear Natasha snorting at her lack of subtlety skills.  
  
"There's been a car parked across the road for a while that isn't usually here and doesn't belong to anyone we know. Other than that, everything is the same as it should be." Her grandmother asked. Evelyn had to give her family credit, they'd always been perceptive. And she knew the car her grandma was talking about - the SHIELD security car that had been parked across the street for a week and still there to that day, though Coulson had warned they would be leaving soon. "Is there something we  _should_ be noticing, Evelyn?"   
  
"No. Just wondered if there was anything new happening with you or around here." Evie shook her head, taking a long sip from the mug in her hands with a silent prayer to whatever deity that the world would ignore her accidentally jinxing herself for the future.


	46. Silver spoon

Almost a month had passed, now early November time. The air was nippy in the evening and the sun had well past set by the time Evelyn and Thomas stepped out of the bar and onto the back garden terrace for a breath of fresh air. The music inside had grown too loud, but outside they felt like they could hear nothing at all. So, instead of finishing whatever conversation they'd been shouting over the thumping baseline of the next pop anthem to hit the top 40's, Thomas pulled out a cigarette and lighter, flicking it open and lighting up while Evelyn swirled her wine glass, half-full.  
  
It was Thomas's birthday. Or, at least it had been a week before now, but Denvers and his newly assigned team had all been in the middle of a training mission and therefore unavailable to celebrate. So, a week later, Thomas had arranged a little weekend excursion out to a bar to drink the night away because what else was he supposed to do for his thirtieth? Have a party? He wasn't five anymore. But he had more colleagues now than he did when he was five, and so more people he could surround himself with to feel less lonely on a night that was supposed to be a celebration. A milestone. But even with his team, he felt like he wasn't really with anyone he wanted to be with, that he could let into a closer circle than just a regular acquaintance or 'friend'.  
  
And so in true gentlemanly fashion, Thomas had invited Evelyn along. And the female had happily accepted.  
  
Taking a long drag from the cigarette, the blond blew out a puff of smoke, the smoke curling in a strange design before dissipating into the cool night air. "So, how are things on your end?" He finally asked once the sound of the gentle breeze in his ears could be heard again.  
  
"Good," Evelyn answered, leaning on the wooden terrace fence and looking out into the empty moonlit garden. "Hard work, though, and basically never-ending. I mean, have you ever seen a Helicarrier up close? The things are bigger than the labyrinth from Labyrinth and infinitely more complicated," She told him, taking a sip from the fruity non-alcoholic wine she'd been recommended, "You seem to be settling in well with your new team." Evelyn spared a glance back at the doors leading inside.  
  
Thomas hummed, flicking the ash from his cigarette. "So far its only been training drills and mission planning. They're a fun group. A bit boisterous but I'm sure the humility will come to the forefront with time and experience, as does everything." He took another drag and blew it out calmly, eyes wandering up to the night sky speckled with clouds.  
  
"That sounds kind of ominous. You sound like you're practically waiting until they realise what the world might have in store for them."  
  
"You've already seen a little bit of what this job has to offer, particularly the bad side of it," Denver said, looking at her. "I'm not saying they should all be kidnapped but that look in their eyes, the starry and essentially naive look is going to be wiped away soon enough. It's just a matter of time before they comprehend it."  
  
"You sound really put-out tonight. Everything okay?" Evelyn turned to him, trying her best to read his expression. It was mainly blank, with that starting-to-feel-that-cigarette haze clouding his blue irises, and his mouth slightly slack. But there were dark circles under his eyes, and a hinting frown overall set on his features, with his posture hunched over and his arms leaning on the fence for support while he smoked.  
  
Something was definitely wrong, but Thomas only offered a shrug back to her. "What's up? SHIELD life? Homelife? Mid-life crisis?" She tried to guess, and Thomas shared a humourless laugh, taking a final drag before stumping it out and tossing it away with a cough.  
  
"I'm tired. Just tired. And... edgy, I guess." He tapped his fingers against the wood in a fidgeting rhythm before glancing at the girl. "Fair warning now, Miss Summers: you can either go back inside and be unburdened for the night or you can listen to my exposition as I rattle on about the story of my life."  
  
"Am I at a high enough friend level to unlock your tragic backstory, then?" Her smile suddenly brightened in the moonlight like a kid who had levelled up on a game.  
  
"You are such a nerd." Thomas shook his head, scoffing. "And it's really not all that tragic." He straightened up, hands still holding onto the fence and clearing his throat. "Okay, where do I start?"  
  
"At the beginning. And then when you get to the end, stop."  
  
"Thank you, Captain Obvious." Thomas gave a tight-lipped smile before letting it go, rolling his shoulders with a sigh and starting to talk again. "Okay, well, first I'm born Thomas Denver to a reputable family in society's upper echelons. Private schools, healthy upbringing, and surrounded by anything I could ever want. My family was-  _is_ huge, and they were one of those families who prided itself in remaining above governmental corruption, staying out of the way of HYDRA and taking stabs at other war-mongering organisations, but they weren't exactly lawful about how they went about it. My growing up mainly consisted of a lot of politics and diplomacy while sitting down to passive-aggressive mealtimes when meeting other families and trying not to cut throats when we disagreed. This lead to quite the number of backstabbing incidents and making personal contacts reached out to by many different family members that I could not name to save their lives. As you can imagine, not the best environment to raise children in. My brother took to it more than I did."  
  
The blond ran a hand through his hair. "When I got into my mid-twenties, I'd had enough. No more playing pretend, no more fakes smiles, no more dinner parties and going slow. We were barely doing anything, making small dents in a global sized problem. I just wanted to get out there, do something other than hiding in the cushy white walls of my own home and waiting for somebody to finally snap our necks and hang us up on the door as an example. I had no idea where to start, though, or what I could actually do other than being the snotty rich kid who knew how to shoot a gun. Honestly, I love my family and their intentions, but it just wasn't... my way of doing things."   
  
"So how did you get here?" Evie asked.  
  
"Well, this was around the time that my family hears about SHIELD, how it was trying to correct things, make the government and corrupt systems better for everyone and throw a spotlight on evil. So, after scrambling around trying to learn as much as I could about this place, we try and form an alliance with SHIELD. It goes well considering all the information we could give them surrounding people we'd met or heard of. Then, after a while of thinking, I applied for an actual position within the organisation and was accepted for a Trial. And as you know, I passed, and now I'm standing here with you." Thomas narrated smoothly, glad for the privacy they had out on the terrace. He could just slump and breathe.  
  
Evie was still confused, "So, what's the problem now? Shouldn't you be happy?"  
  
"I am. Or, I should be, shouldn't I? I grew up surrounded by systems and manipulation of the masses, but then so many of the people around me are so starry-eyed and have no real clue what is out there, what monsters lurk in the dark, what damage they can do." Thomas rubbed at his shoulder underneath his long navy overcoat. She caught a flash of a few pink lines, scarred, looked like they resulted from a knife. It also occurred to her at that moment that Thomas never wore anything different than 3/4 sleeve shirts with high necks, even when they'd been training and getting sweaty and needed to cool off. Tonight though, he'd worn a button-down under his long jacket, and the top few buttons were undone. "I know I sound like a bastard for saying that but it's just how I feel."  
  
"It doesn't make you sound like a bastard. You can do that just by being Thomas. But knowing that stuff gives you an advantage. You have the experience, you know the kinds of people that hold the power, and what you can do to avoid mistakes or events that have happened in the past. Look, I don't know all of what you went through. As a matter of fact, we grew up pretty much on opposite sides of the tracks. But feeling this way is okay. Its almost like how Clint was super worried about something happening to me because I'm young and still new to this whole thing. And within the first three weeks of being here, I get kidnapped. But, it just happened, I knew the risks and I took them anyway. I doubt all the people on your team have no idea what they were getting into by coming here, and being worried for them is fine."  
  
"I don't want it to turn back into fake smiles and constantly looking over my shoulder again. No more constantly thinking about where the nearest weapon is. Its why I'm here and not still there."  
  
"It won't," Evelyn said, confidently. She placed a hand on his shoulder. "SHIELD is not a dinner party and it works with the purpose of protection on a global scale. You're an Agent, you have a file and badge to prove it, and you're training to help people, which is more than you could do if you were still at home. Your teammates are there for you. I'm here for you." She slowly slid her hand down his arm in a smooth gesture, soon finding his hand and after a second's hesitation and wonder if he would pull away, she held his hand gently. "You're here. You're working to make things different." She squeezed his hand in her grip, reassuringly. Or at least what she hoped seemed like a reassuring gesture. It was hard to tell with Thomas, one moment he was as open like a book and the next as guarded as a horny person's search history.  
  
"Its gonna be okay. You're gonna be okay. Better than okay, you're going to be great." She nodded promisingly with a fearless grin aimed at him, hoping he wouldn't poke holes at her facade and just agree so she could finish her wine and think about how different she imagined his backstory to be from what she'd heard.  
  
Thomas looked up from their linked fingers to her eyes. "You know, if you were just a little older than you are, I would start to think you  _liked_ me, Summers."  
  
"No thanks. I'm good." Evelyn unlaced their fingers and looked away with a curt nod, tension happily broken.   
  
Denver chuckled softly, warmly, not feeling all that tired anymore, "In any other time in the 20th century, they could have been in love. Except for that one time."  
  
Evelyn turned back to him, brow furrowed. "Did you just quote Quentin Tarantino?"  
  
"Yes. Or otherwise, I'm surely living in the same century as Captain America. And I don't see Miss Margaret "Peggy" Carter standing behind you with a disapproving look on her face." Thomas smirked at her.  
  
"No, but I see Clint Barton standing behind  _you_ with a murderous look on his face."  
  
"What?" Thomas practically squeaked out as he spun around quickly to check.  
  
Evie snorted, breaking into giggles ad Thomas turned back around and grunted, shoving her. The girl simply rolled her eyes and swatted his shoulder, turning her gaze back to the garden in front of them.  
  
It was quiet for a long moment. Gentle. Undisturbed.  
  
Thomas shifted, pulling a second cigarette out of his pocket and lighting it. "Did you see the news about Anthony Stark?" He talked with the roll between his teeth, sliding away the lighter and picking it up with his fingers.  
  
"Washington and the Expo explosion? Who hasn't by now?" Evie leaned on the fence, smoke clouding the garden view momentarily. "A real shitshow according to Nat. Or at least the stuff she can 'accidentally' let slip for me to hear. Rumour around the building has it that Mr Stark is being asked to become involved in a very special SHIELD case. No one knows the exact details yet but I'm sure with some paper rustling and cough talking it'll get figured out." She folded her arms, thinking. And it occurred to her again that for an organisation that was supposed to be top secret with a whole manner of different levels of clearance and security, it was so easy for things to slip through the cracks. 'Rumours' were basically memos now. "You know if it involves someone such as Stark something big is going down."  
  
"Not that I usually try and be conspiratorial, but I agree. Something's strange." The blond took a drag and blew it out. It was growing colder, and later, and the two would surely be figured out to be missing company soon.  
  
"There's that foreboding feeling crawling up my back again." Evelyn rolled her shoulders at the itch settling there.  
  
"I'll drink to that." Thomas puffed and Evelyn finished her drink in a toast. Then the two were set in silence until Denver finished the roll and tossed the end away. "Come on. I'm sure everyone's worried sick about our absence. It's about ten now."  
  
"Thirty years old and still out at ten? Isn't it past your bedtime now, sir?" Evelyn teased him gently as they turned back to the bar doors.  
  
"Isn't it past yours? Or can you not fall asleep without someone tucking you in with your teddy bear?" Thomas snarked back, making pouty lips at the idea of treating her like a child.  
  
It was a happy coincidence that Thomas opened the door and let the music flood them at the same time as Evelyn complained,  _"Shut up, Buffers"_ which was happily lost to the thumping baseline of the song causing many couples to dance quite close to one another. Evie sighed, looking down into her empty wine glass before walking back inside. "I love open bars."


	47. Tyre tracks

**Two years later...**  
Helicarriers were advanced aerial vehicles with a design and function closely resembling that of a modern aircraft carrier. Specifically, they are designed to be capable of sustained, independently-powered flight via four massive engines that provide the lift needed to keep it in the air. Helicarriers were also supposed to act as highly strategic mobile bases to perform a number of effective reconnaissance, stealth deployment, or direct strike operations.  
  
And Helicarriers were also a huge pain in the ass to build.  
  
"Son of a-!" Evelyn muttered out a string of creative curses, shaking her hand to try and numb the pain of dropping a very heavy piece of solid metal on her hand. She really should be used to it by now by the number of times it had happened when working here, or her hand should be very much broken by now. At least, that's what her team who witnessed the twenty-one-year-old cursing like a sailor joked and chuckled.  
  
And Evelyn absolutely did not flip them off because she was an excellent coworker.  
  
Going to pick up the metal block again, she saw something glinting at her from the floor in the artificial lights of the turbine engine. She scooped it up to realise that her ID had been knocked off her shirt pocket. **Level 5 Tech Consultant,** it now read with pride.According to Clint, that was the highest level most engineers and technicians could reach. She was proud, he was proud, Natasha was proud, Thomas tried to act indifferent but was in fact proud.  
  
Pinning it back to her shirt, she picked up her screwdriver from the pile of miscellaneous tools forming on a nearby bench and began attempting to screw the metal block that had tried snapping her fingers into pieces into the engine to prevent overheating. Not five minutes into the attachment, the klaxon to inform most members that their shift was over, and Evelyn gave a small sigh before finishing up as much as she could and packing away her tools.  
  
It had been a busy few weeks lately. Evelyn had been slowly progressing when working with the Helicarriers, mixed in with filing reports and a few side projects she wasn't at liberty to discuss even with Agents Romanoff and Barton. Clint had been receiving increasingly frequent missions as of late, along with Natasha running off to Culver University for reasons she couldn't divulge, but the world realised what was going on when the news broke on TV about the giant green monster thingy essentially breaking Harlem. And then the news broke out that SHIELD had found a man in the ice when locating a lost ship in the Arctic, but soon realised it wasn't only a man, but Captain Steven Grant Rogers,  _Captain America_  himself. It had been a very whispery week for agents of SHIELD all around following that one.  
  
And now, the graduation party for most agents progressing to further levels was that night. But this time, Evelyn was actually allowed to be there.  
  
So, picking up her things, Evelyn scrubbed her face free of dirt and engine oil before heading outside to Clint waiting by the car. Sharing a nod, the two hopped in and drove off to shower and get ready. Evelyn still lived in her own apartment, even though the offer to stay at Clint's was always there, but the female still felt like she belonged closer to home, and no one had attacked the apartments or her grandparents since the time she was kidnapped. She counted that as good luck she didn't want to give up.  
  
Picking her up from her apartment with Natasha already in the car, Clint complimented Evelyn's [dress ](https://images-na.ssl-images-amazon.com/images/I/61EeVZcIdqL._UX342_.jpg)which was considerably more classy than her last one as she piled into the car and the archer began driving to the grad party. It was also mildly entertaining to find out the argument over the music choice in the car was a reoccurring one.    
  
Set in a bar like last time, the three entered to the soundtrack of the newest discotheque beat. And now that Evelyn could drink, the trio acquired themselves three glasses of champagne at Natasha's request (read: order). They spent at least an hour just standing and dancing, gossiping and catching up over what they'd missed and who they'd met. It wasn't long before Clint needed to take a bathroom break and left the girls to themselves for a few minutes.  
  
Coming back, neither Natasha nor Evelyn were where he'd left them. He spotted Nat fairly quickly conversing with Maria in the corner over their champagne glasses, however, Evie was nowhere to be seen.  
  
It was actually kinda hard to spot her at first, but eventually, his eyes tracked the mousey brown hair in a crowd of SHIELD agents including Thomas Denver. She was chatting casually with her shoulders back and open body language, happily laughing along as one of the group members had started cracking a funny anecdote. The archer watched the technician, looking fully in her element with a group of friends surrounding her that were somewhat around her age, smiling, laughing, confident. And dressed happily in an outfit bought by herself after remembering, oh yeah, she could afford to spoil herself now with her job, and also support her grandparents and herself with ease. It struck Clint harder than he expected when he recognised the number of differences he saw when looking at the  ~~teenager~~. No. She wasn't a teenager. Not anymore. She was a full-grown adult now.  
  
Fuck. Had it really been two years already? It felt like nothing.  
  
Yes, it had. And Clint was not at all familiar with the feeling he felt in that moment. It was foreign, but not entirely unpleasant. He realised he wanted to see her grow more. He wanted to watch her progress, become more, do more, experience more. He wanted to bark at any guy or girl that got just a little too close to her. He wanted to see her happy and try his best to bolster her whenever she self-deprecated. He wanted to be there when she got injured or needed to be picked up, dusted off, and given a warm hug. He felt like a father.  
  
...shit.  
  
Shit shittery shit shit shit, in fact. Not good. Not good at all. Get yourself together Barton. Shit!  
  
Or, perhaps not shit. Maybe she wouldn't mind that he saw himself like that? That kind of figure? He was her mentor. It wasn't so different.  
  
Or, more likely, she'd slap him and run away screaming like he'd shot Lucky through the head with an arrow if he said anything.  
  
He decided to distract himself from the problem with more alcohol, and lots more of it, hoping the impending hangover the next would erase that night's string of thoughts from his head.  
  
  
Clint woke in a familiarly groggy state, noting the surface underneath him was plush but definitely not his bed. Sofa then. And the sunlight coming through the window attempted to blind him when he opened his eyes, groaning aloud and turning over to bury his face in the cushions.  
  
"I need to start filming with you around. Get all your drunk antics on video." The female voice was a jackhammer in his head, but he squinted up at the girl still in her dress and holding two coffee cups when the words registered in his mind.  
  
"What did I do last night?"  
  
She grinned, perching one side on the sofa's backrest. "You shaved Lucky."  
  
He looked at her flatly. "Evelyn."  
  
"You ripped the tag off a mattress."  
  
"Evelyn."  
  
"You killed a man with your thumb."  
  
"Evelyn."  
  
"You inappropriately licked an ice sculpture."  
  
"Ev-e-lyn."  
   
"You stole the Declaration of Independence."  
  
" _Harley_."  
  
"Whaaaat?" She all but whined back at him when he used the moniker. She'd come to know he would use that whenever she was either talking to him during mission times or when she was in trouble. Either that or hearing 'Evelyn Grace Summers' but he was just a bit too cranky for that now. She sighed, "You drank, you danced, you made fun of Thomas's haircut, you drank again."  
  
He reached out and took the coffee cup extended to him, pushing himself to sit up against the backrest. "Maybe I should just stop drinking." He gave himself a second to consider it. "No. Couldn't last."  
  
Evelyn snorted, "Hardened SHIELD Level 7 Agent who couldn't last without drinking. Here's hoping you never have a mission in a country where it's prohibited." She raised her own mug in a toast and drank, as did Barton along with her. "I made breakfast, by the way. You're also out of eggs."  
  
At the mention of breakfast, as if on cue, Barton's stomach gurgled. But looking up at the brunette looking down at him, he started to smile as he remembered what he had stored for her later on. "After breakfast, I need you outside. There's something I want to show you."  
  
  
A quick breakfast of sausage and egg, only the two of them since Natasha had smartly decided to get the hell out of dodge before he started vomiting on the sofa, Evelyn scrubbed the dishes and changed into a set of clothes kept in the spare room for her before she followed Clint outside to the barn.  
  
That's when Clint started fidgeting, picking at his hands as he looked at Evie watching him with a curious gaze. He gestured to the covered object standing in the shadow of one corner, "I want to give you something. A graduation present, of sorts. It's yours to do whatever you wish with, and if you don't like it, fair enough, but I just thought it might be a nice almost graduation gift-"  
  
"Clint, just show me before you melt into a tiny anxious puddle, please?" She leaned back on the tractor, relaxed, folding her arms.  
  
The archer cleared his throat, grabbing the sheet and yanking it off before he had another chance to hesitate.  
  
The technician rolled her eyes at the dramatic action and turned to look at the surprise hidden in the corner. Evelyn's face slowly morphed from the expression of relaxed and slightly curious to one that Clint had rarely ever seen on her. Or at least, had rarely seen at times other when he showed her some sort of care or encouragement: surprise mixed with shock.  
  
"I got ahold of your grandfather's number through the hospital. I asked him for the specifications of the original you had, and he told me the details _-or at least what he could remember-_  and pulled in a small favour I was owed," Barton explained calmly, eyes flicking between the girl and the gift.  
  
"Clint, this is..." Evie pushed herself off of the tractor, taking a careful step towards the object sitting in the corner of the dusty barn garage.  
  
Her fingertips tentatively reached out to touch the rubber of the handlebars, and she nearly wobbled when she realised what was under her hands was real. It was a Harley Davidson. But it wasn't only a Harley Davidson, it was an exact replica of the one her grandfather had promised her years and years ago and then was promptly stolen from the house because she could ride it.  
  
"Too much?" He urged lightly, looking from her to the bike where she was running her hands over all the little details, specifically the modifications her grandfather had specified were put in custom.  
  
His attention was caught by the sniff and quick wipe of a hoodie sleeve across her eyes, slightly smudging the makeup she missed wiping off the night before. Her gaze shifted to him watching her and she scoffed at his look of slight smugness. "Shut up. It's dusty in here. You should actually use that tractor for once, or do you need the youth to show you how to turn it on and off again?" She was deflecting, and they both knew it. But Clint didn't care.  
  
"Should I leave you two alone for a minute?" He asked gently as she put her hands both on the handlebars and looked right at home.  
  
"Clint, I don't know how to thank you for this." She untangled herself a little hesitantly from the bike to look at him properly.  
  
"Don't. It's a gift."  
  
"Its a pretty big fucking gift, Barton. I mean its..." She worked her mouth but nothing came out, wiping her cheek with her sleeve again.  
  
"Yours." He finished for her. "Do whatever you want with it. Use it, store it, modify it, anything. This vehicle is yours to command."  
  
She put her hand on it again, fingers dancing over the leather seat. "Does this mean next time you have a big success I need to get you a new bow?" She asked with a growing smile that assured Clint she liked it.  
  
"Speaking of, actually." He moved over to the hay bales to the side of the room, picking out a case and settling it on top of the bales. He clicked it open to reveal the bow from the first time he'd attempted to teach her how to shoot. Except for this time, he placed a leather quiver stocked with arrows beside it. "Since you've shown more interest than just trying for my sake, this one is officially yours, quiver and all." The girl moved over to the case to see, recognising the bow and carefully picking up the quiver as Barton took a step back as to try not to overwhelm her.  
  
His eyes flicked back to the motorcycle and where the sheet had been tossed t the floor, he picked it up and folded it neatly, setting it down on the tractor hood before turning back to the brunette. Evelyn was just kind of standing there, staring, running her thumb over the letters  _'HARLEY'_  embroidered specially into the leather quiver lining. "You're looking a little lost there. Need anything?"  
  
"A hug before I collapse would be nice." She replied, and the archer's arms were around her within a second. She buried her face into his shoulder, holding on tightly and trying not to have a little bit of a breakdown. Clint just held her closely, petting her hair and making note of the inch that Evelyn had gained on him in height in the past two years, they were almost at eye level now.  
  
She took in a long breath, moving her head up from his shoulder. "Why do you do all this stuff for me all the time? There's being a friend like how Natasha acts and then there's you. I mean, there's not much I can give you back on the same level, in fact, most of the time we're around each other I just give you heart attacks."  
  
Barton chuckled in spite of himself. "Let me ask you something. I'm your mentor and your friend, right? And I want you to be happy because I care about you and its nice to have people that care about you. You deserve to be happy, don't you?" He questioned, watching her face and expression for any hint of a lie to come.  
  
Evelyn blinked at the question, before nodding. "I am. Happy, I mean. I'm happier now than I've been in a long, long time. Like, I honestly can't remember a time in my life where I was this satisfied with where I was and what I was doing for myself," She rushed to explain, "It's great. Honestly, I'm so grateful. If it hadn't been for you, I don't know where I'd be in my life right now... or if I'd even be here anymore." Her eyes fell to the floor of the garage, a sneaker kicking at a stray piece of hay. Barton's brow furrowed, but she continued before he could speak his mind, "This whole thing started as an accident and because I couldn't keep my emotions to myself, and then this whole other thing just stemmed out from that. I met you, I met Nat, I got a working job, I faced off my school bullies, I got caught up in SHIELD and put myself on a career path that I am now so happy with and would never have gotten to experience otherwise. I've got friends now, real ones, and can support my grandparents and myself with my job. I've shared things with you that I thought I would never again feel comfortable discussing and you make me feel safe, discounting that one time I got kidnapped." Evie recounted, and Clint found himself smiling at her humour regardless of how harrowing the actual event had been for the two of them. Evie had a really cool scar on her shoulder now though. "But this is different. Even you have to admit that." She pressed on, waiting for him to respond.  
  
Clint yielded to the questioning and tried his best to word his answer well. "Alright, yes, this is different. And like I said, I'm your mentor and your friend. I'm glad to be someone that makes you feel safe, especially when working for SHIELD. I figure Nat's kind of right when she calls you Little Hawk because regardless of whether you're twenty-one or older, you're still a little kid to me. Kiddo." He patted her head half-jokingly, keeping his real thoughts and the memories of his internal panic the night before to himself.  
  
"I thought we agreed that name wasn't going to stick." She pushed his hand off.  
  
"You agreed. I shrugged."  
  
"I hate you."  
  
Barton snorted, but continued, "I am allowed to give you things, gifts, and I'm giving you these things for a lot of reasons, mainly because I want to. And these particular items should be yours anyway. The bow I don't use anymore anyway and the bike is just something that's been on my mind since you told me. I thought you might have got one yourself before now what with your new direction and frankly, I'm surprised you didn't."  
  
" _I'm_ surprised you remembered me telling you that..." Evelyn glanced at the sheet-covered motorcycle. The archer's eyes narrowed suspiciously at Evelyn's slowly growing smirk. "...what with your old-man memory, and all."  
  
Clint's sharp retort was interrupted by a musical jingle. After patting down his pockets and remembering he'd left his phone in the house, he looked at the girl who fished out her own phone and put it to her ear.  
  
"Hello?" She answered the phone with a smile, but after a few seconds, her smile slipped off of her features, turning much more serious with a furrowed brow. "Yeah, of course." Clint couldn't hear the other side, or guess at who it was, but whoever it was wasn't being nice. "Yeah, but- hm?" She cut herself off mid-interruption, lips twisting into a pout, then a frown, before glancing up at the archer. "Yeah, he's here." Whoever it was knew Clint, so that narrowed the list, but he still wouldn't know who was giving Evelyn premature frown lines if asked. "Okay, I'll tell him." Evie pulled the phone away and ended the call, groaning at Barton. "That was Fury. He wants us at Headquarters and he wants us there yesterday." She put her phone away and leaned back on the tractor, letting her head thump back to rest on the metal.  
  
The archer sighed, looking at the bow and the bike together, before packing everything up and grabbing his keys. "We'll finish this discussion later, I promise. For now, though, I'll drive."


	48. Epilogue

The drive to SHIELD was mostly silent. Neither agent was sure what they were being called in for, and both understood that perhaps this wasn;t the best of news.   
  
"Are we getting fired?" Evelyn finally broke the tension, biting her lip.  
  
"I can't think of us doing anything that would get us fired," Clint responded, trying his best to sound confident. It didn't help too much as they pulled into the parking lot and the car came to a stop, engine cutting off.  
  
Barton moved first out of the car, and although Summers hesitated, she decided perhaps it was just best to get it over with quickly. Resisting the urge to grab at Clint's hand, she slid out od the car and he locked it, the two heading inside like they would on any other normal work day.  
  
But as they reached the front desk and elevator, the two were separated apart, Clint following Coulson and Evelyn following Fury. The Director didn't say anything other than  _"follow me"_  and the girl obeyed without verbal question, though mental questioning didn't count. Evie was led down a long string of hallways she'd not been allowed access to or been told to explore before, and she would definitely have to ask for directions to get back to the main reception.  
  
When they finally came to a halt in the middle of a mostly deserted hallway, there were multiple armed guards outside of the meeting room and Fury flashed his clearance card over the lock, allowing them both inside silently.  
  
"What's going on?" Evelyn asked as the meeting room door was shut and locked behind her.  
  
"There's something you need to know about the world, Miss Summers."  
  
The windows were all blocked out and the light was coming from the artificial ones overhead and the holoscreens, quick to be swiped at by Director Fury and dismissing any work or data displayed. There was no one else but him and her in the room now. Fury gestured for her to sit, so she did at the end of the table, as he approached her with something in his hand.  
  
"This is a completely classified case. No one outside of this room besides yourself, Agent Barton, Agent Coulson, and Agent Romanoff can discuss this unless given specific permission otherwise. Under no circumstances must this be let out to the public, or anyone within SHIELD without Clearance."  
  
The snap of cardboard hitting the meeting table made her jump and look to the object sitting there.  
  
Laying on the table in front of her was a thick cardboard lined file, pages peeking out of the side, marked clearly with the SHIELD logo and format.   
  
**'084 REPORT: TESSERACT TRIALS'**  
  
"I think its time for you to fix something much bigger than a Helicarrier, Agent Summers."  
  
She picked up the file, running her thumb across the binder edge and flicking it open to read. "Such as?"  
  
Another slap. Another file. This time, the words marked clearly with the SHIELD logo and format took on a much different meaning. On the front cover were four clear printed words in bold.  
  
**'AVENGERS INITIATIVE: PREMLIMIARY REPORT'**  
  
  
**THE END**


End file.
